Wild, Wild Love
by kangaroo2010
Summary: In a world where the Avatar was never found, a boy named Zuko meets a girl named Katara, and begins to suspect that being exiled was the best thing that ever happened to him. As usual, there will be smoking, drinking, adult language and themes, but, in a radical departure, a lot more fluff. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_**Oh this wild, wild love of ours,  
It can't be tamed.  
For better or worse,  
A blessing or a curse,  
Long live this wild, wild love…**_

1. I WISH I COULD SAY THAT I WAS THE ONE WHO FOUND HER. That's how the stories are supposed to work, right? It's always the _boy_ who meets the _girl_, not the other way around. She's supposed to be standing there, looking forlorn, and I'm supposed to go up to her. I'll embarrass myself in some way, she'll not like me at first, or she will like me but she'll have another man, or she'll be a spirit and I'll be some sort of god taking human form for a day, or something like that. All of those cheap romances tend to blend together after a while.

The point is, though, that I was the one who was supposed to find her. I'm the prince, she's the peasant, and that's just how the formula works. Only this time…it didn't.

No, she found me. She found me, alone, back against a wall, trying to enjoy a smoke in peace and quiet. And, you know, I wouldn't have it any other way.

It was high summer, the fourth year of my exile. I was…oh…twenty-two, as of the recently past spring. Despite the time of year, the weather was cool, the air light and soft. The sun hung high in the sky, warm but not overpowering. The snows had receded, and the world was a blinding shade of emerald green, the smell of fresh grass mixing with the salty tang of the sea to form a heady mix that left my mind feeling soft and refreshed. We had arrived early that morning, as the sun spilled out over the horizon and turned the world a thousand shades of purple and gold. I had decided to stay for a couple of weeks, to give my crew some well-deserved rest and relaxation. The village elders, such as they were, had agreed whole-heartedly. Our relationship with each other had grown strong and mutually beneficial, and they were as eager for what we could give them as we were for what amounted to a small, hopefully happy vacation. After three months at sea, we were ready to a break.

That's how I came to be there, in that spot in the shade. I needed some fresh air, a smoke, the chance to lay my head against an anonymous wall, close my eyes, listen to the world slide by. There had been some formalities, of course, and various chores. My crew had to be seen to, billets had to be found, my ship's stores had to be emptied of the trade goods we had brought, the tobacco and the liquor and the manufactured goods that this rural tribe simply couldn't make for themselves. There was an official welcoming ceremony, and a ritual passing of a peace pipe, and a ritual toast to everyone's good health. It was nothing onerous, of course; these were a simple people, who had no time for the elaborate niceties that I had been raised in at home. Finally, though, I had, quite simply, had enough. At the earliest opportunity, I turned everything over to my uncle and Captain Fujita and wandered off alone.

I walked aimlessly through the village, letting my feet guide me. I was dressed simply, and carried no weapons, and few seemed to pay me much heed. I had long since stopped being a curiosity, and become, instead, a fairly familiar sight. I knew many of the people I passed, if not by name, at least by face, and more than once I stopped to chat idly with casual acquaintances. I spoke Suomi fluently, and there was no barrier in communication. There were few men my age, but I still found people to talk to. There was even one girl, barely sixteen or seventeen, who flashed a shy grin and coyly asked if I wanted to come inside her house, for, well, _tea._ I politely declined. She was pretty, and I was lonely, but such casual relations simply weren't my way, and besides, that wasn't what I was looking for, that particular afternoon.

It wasn't until I started to enter the edges of the village that I finally found the spot I was looking for. It was perfect, a random shed, seemingly unattached to anything, standing alone in the sun. It was even angled just right, so that one wall was shrouded completely in shadow, but still allowed me to look out towards the grass beyond the last houses of the village, off into the rolling hills that seemed to stretch off forever, until they faded into faraway mountains, sharp peaks shrouded by the distance. I settled down there, resting my head back against the wall. It was, like I said, cool, and the grass beneath me was soft and slightly damp, but not enough to be uncomfortable. I reached into my pocket, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. I slipped one out, stuck in my lips, laid the pack on the ground beside me. I lit the cigarette with a snap of my fingers, bending a small flame from the tip of my thumb. I took a long, deep drag, sighed with pleasure as the sharp bite of the tobacco shivered through my veins. I let the smoke slowly curl from my mouth and my nostrils, closed my eyes, and felt at peace. I allowed myself to drift away, floating up and about with the swirls of the smoke, the sound of sighing grass and tittering birds overwhelming my senses.

No doubt I would've dozed off if she hadn't found me.

"_Fakku shite mimasen ka?"_

I opened my eyes, such as I could. The words filtered slowly into my brain. I'd be lying if I wasn't a little confused. I hadn't heard my native tongue said in a feminine voice in quite some time, and even then, there was no reason for someone to say _that_. The confusion was strengthened by the fact that the words were said in the most gods-awful, mangled accent that I had ever heard. I looked up, unsure what to find, and blinked in surprise.

There before me, looking down, was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. She was Water Tribe, of course, with dark skin and long, dark brown hair falling down to the small of her back. Her eyes were the deepest blue I'd ever seen, matching the medallion at her neck, which seemed to drink in the light of the sun. She was tall for a girl, it seemed to me, thin and fit, and was dressed in standard Water Tribe summer attire, light fabric tightly fitting her curves. She had her hands behind her back, and she was leaning down, looking at me with an expectant glimmer in her eyes.

I won't lie, I gaped for a few moments. She, quite simply, took my breath away. What she had just asked me didn't help matters much. I reached up, ran some fingers through my hair, turning my head slightly so that she was fully in view of my good eye.

"Um…what was that?" I asked in Suomi, my tongue thick in my mouth. I swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture back in my throat. I instantly felt flustered and nervous, like I always did when pretty girls talked to me, or, at least, pretty girls that I _wanted_ to talk to me.

She moved her hands to the front, crossed her arms at her chest, tilting her head and sighing in what seemed like exasperation. "Ugh…I didn't say it right, did I?" She took a deep breath, nodding her head up and down as she mouthed the words, before she said, with great emphasis and care, _"Fakku shite mimasen ka?"_

I felt a blush creeping up my neck. I fought it down, shaking my head in a vain attempt to get my wits back. I was trying hard not to laugh, but I did manage a smile. "You…who taught you that?"

She sighed, straightening herself and casting an ugly look back towards the center of the village. "My idiot brother. He fancies himself a man of culture, which is funny, considering he can barely write his own name."

I nod, realization dawning on my slowly. "Ah…I see…mind if I ask what he told you that meant?"

"He told me it meant, _How are you doing today?_" She chewed her lip for a moment, before reaching up to pinch her nose. "That's totally not what it means, is it?"

I shake my head, fighting hard against the chuckle building in my chest. "No, it's not."

She looks up at the heavens. "Dare I even ask what it actually means?"

"Heh…do you really want to know?"

She looks back to me. "Might as well, so I know exactly how badly to pummel his ass when I get back to the house."

The laughter is growing stronger, hot and fierce inside me. It's becoming harder and harder to resist. I really don't know how much longer I can last. "Well…basically…you just asked me if I want to…well…_get to know you._"

Her mouth drops open. "You mean to say…I basically just asked you if you want to fuck me?"

I'm completely lost now. The giggles are spilling out in short, sharp barks. I don't even know why I'm bothering to fight it. I nod my head, a fist pressed to my lips, as I try to shake the laughter away, to no avail. I feel my face growing hot and warm, and I just _know_ she's going to stomp her feet and storm away and never speak to me again, and I don't want that, _I don't know __**why**__ I don't want that,_ I just know that…well…_what do I know?_ But the situation is too silly, and the look on her face…_oh, Agni, the look on her face…_

Any other girl would've turned on her heels and stormed off, just as I feared. But her, in that moment? What did she do? A faint smile curls across her face as she tilts her head, a strange gleam in her eyes.

_That's when I knew she was unlike any girl I'd ever known…_

"You enjoying yourself?" Her voice is light, amused.

I shake my head, still fighting the giggles. "Not really, no, I mean, but…_yeah_, I guess so…" I rub the back of my neck. "It's just…if you could see your face right now…"

She giggles. It sounds like wind chimes softly ringing at sunset. "Yeah…I can see that." She giggles again, a short, soft snort, then reaches up to brush a few stray strands of hair off her face, tucking them behind her ear. "Well, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to go kill my brother now."

I don't know where the words come from, just that they, well, _they spill out._ I'm reaching towards her, gesturing at the spot to my right, and this strange voice I barely know is saying, "Well, um, that's cool, but if you want, you can, um, sit down next to me and, um, we can plot your revenge or…something…"

Her smile grows wider, and the gleam in her eyes grows stronger. She nibbles lightly on her lip. I'd be lying if I tried to say that I didn't swoon a little bit when she did that.

"Well, seeing as it _is_ what I came over her to do…" She shrugs. "Not the revenge part, just the, well, _sitting down and getting to know you _part." She steps forward, stops, points to the spot on my right I've just waved at. "Right side, right?"

I nod. "Yes, if you don't mind."

She nods, steps forward, and settles down next to me, copying my pose as she lays her head back against the wall behind us. She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says, "You know, it's not that bad."

I turn to her, blink. "What isn't?"

She points at my face. "Your scar. It's really not that bad."

Instinctively, I reach up, brush my fingers along what was once my mark of shame, of pain, _of dishonor_. I shrug. "Yeah, I know."

She arches an eyebrow. "Then why do you always ask people to stand on your right? I mean, I've watched you with your crew. They always move to the right to talk to you."

I lay my head back against the wood, finishing the cigarette in my fingers and tossing it away. "It's not because I'm _insecure_ or anything, it's just that…well…I'm blind in my left eye." I take a deep breath, let it out. "The…the _accident_…well…it didn't do wonders for this side of my face." I reach up, tap my withered left ear. "My hearing is kind of messed up in this ear, too, so it's just easier if people stay to my right."

She nods slowly, taking this in. "That must get frustrating."

I shrug. "Not really. You get used to it, after a while." I shake my head, smiling. "You can get used to anything, after a while, if you put your mind to it."

She smiles back at me. "Or maybe you're just stronger than you think you are."

I turn away before a blush can sneak up and betray me. I cough into my hand, trying desperately to get the butterflies under control. "You know," I say, a strange, tingly sensation creeping into my chest, "you're already beautiful, you don't need flattery to keep me talking to you."

She scoffs. "Well, you're one to talk, throwing around a word like _beautiful._"

I turn back to her, face serious. "It's not flattery if it's true."

I expected many things at that moment, none of them good. That's a bad habit of mine, to over-think things, to always expect the worst. I fully expected her to slap me, to stomp off, to go grab her brother and bring him and his friends back to kick my ass for my forwardness. At the very least, I expected her to roll her eyes and call out my lame-ass attempt at flirtation for what it was, _the lame efforts of an ass._

But she did none of those things. She did the one thing I wasn't prepared for.

_She blushed, and she smiled, and she swallowed a soft giggle…_

The strands of hair had snuck back out from behind her ear. Hurriedly, as if to cover up her own fluster, she reached up and put them back in place. I found myself wishing that they would slip out again, so I could have a chance to put them back behind that ear myself. We turned away from each other, facing forward, trying to regain our composure, and ruining it by catching each other sneaking glances out of the corners of our eyes. Finally, I cleared my throat and said, "You're…um…Sokka's sister, right?"

She nods. "I am, indeed."

I chuckle. "You know, you really do need to go kick his ass. The chief's son shouldn't be playing those kinds of tricks on his little sister."

"_Little?_ I'll have you know that I'm twenty-years-old, mister."

I turn to her, fear of disappointment clutching my heart. "Wait…_twenty?_ So…umm…" I find my eyes drifting down to the necklace. "You're not…umm…_married_, are you?"

She giggles. "No, silly, I'm not." She touches the necklace. "This was my mother's, and her mother's before her. It's…kind of a family heirloom, of sorts." She shakes her head, smiling. "What, you think someone who was married or, at least, _betrothed_, would come sit down at the edge of town and flirt with the dashing Fire Nation boy every girl in the tribe lusts after?"

"Heh…I doubt they lust after me." I hook a thumb back down the way I had come. "Though, I'm pretty sure a girl who was at least betrothed propositioned my not a half-hour ago."

She sighs, clucks her tongue. "Oh, yeah, tall, skinny girl, well endowed, hair a lot lighter than mine?"

I nod. "I take it she has a reputation?"

She giggles. "Well, you know, every village needs a few ornaments. You know, the idiot, the beggar, the crazy old guy and/or crazy old lady…"

"…the village komodo-rhino…"

She looks to me, laughter in her eyes. "The what-now?"

"You know, the village komodo-rhino, because everyone's had a ride."

She pokes me in the side. "That's good, I like it. But yeah, that's her. Steer clear." There's a short pause, and then, "So…what is…umm…what's your language called again?"

"_Nihongo._"

"Ah, right. So, what _is_ the way to say, _How are you doing today?_"

_"Kyō wa ogenkidesuka."_

She furrows her brow. "What was that again?"

I say it again, and again, slowly walking her through it. She's a fast learner. Her pronunciation is still subpar _at best_, but she works hard, making me talk her through each step, inflection, and even tongue movement. I can tell that, with a little bit of practice and some regular lessons, she could gain at least a rudimentary mastery of my native language fairly quickly. As soon as that realization popped into my head, a crazy idea came running in right behind it.

"So," I asked, picking my words carefully, "are you interested in learning my language?"

She nods. "Actually…yeah, I am. I'm just interested in learning things in general, and languages in particular. I mean, I know it's _the language of the enemy_, but…it's also the language of you and your crew, who've become…well…_our friends_." She smiles. "And it's such an interesting-sounding language. I just…I'd like to learn more." She sighs, rests her chin on her propped-up knees. "Hell, I'll settle for learning how to _read_ at this point."

I round on her. "You don't know how to read?"

She makes a face. "Not really, no. There's not much…well…_formal schooling_ down here, not for a long time, and there wasn't much to begin with, before the war. The North is where all the _civilization _is, to tell you the truth, and even there, according to my grandmother, women aren't encouraged to learn to read and write." She turns to me. "It's not like that where you come from?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. I mean, it was different for me, because I come from the upper class, but at least there, women are expected to be just as educated as the men." I reach back, rub my neck. "In fact, if you like, I could…well…_teach you._"

Her face brightened like the sun, and my heart did a somersault in my throat. It was the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen, and I knew then that I was lost, that I would do anything, _anything at all_, to see it again.

_It was right then that I realized that I had a major crush…_

"You would do that?"

I bowed my head. "It would be an honor." I hesitated for a moment, but then stuck out my hand. She stared at it, before slowly taking it in hers. Thank the gods she took the lead in the shaking, because I was awkward as hell at it. The clasping of hands is definitely a Water Tribe custom; we stick to a complex system of bowing in the Fire Nation.

"I'm Zuko," I say.

She giggles. "I know. Everyone knows that."

I shrug. "Yeah, but still, I felt that I should…well…_formally introduce myself_, you know?"

She nods, then releases my hand. She reaches down, snatches the pack of cigarettes from the ground, and pulls out two. One she hands to me, and the other she sticks in her own lips. She leans forward, playful expectation in her eyes, as I snap my fingers and produce my small flame, lighting first her cigarette then mine. She takes a long, slow drag, blowing out in a way that can only really be described as…well…_seductive._ I'd be lying if I tried to say that it didn't cause my mind to slip a few gears.

Finally, she spoke.

"I'm Katara."

I smile. "Nice to meet you, Katara." I chuckle. "You know…I've wanted to meet you for quite some time."

She giggles. "Oh, I know, and vice versa. But my brother can be devious, when he puts his mind to it." She turns the full force of her smile on me. "But I can be devious, too."

I wink. "Well, I'm glad you were devious today."

Her smile widens. "So am I."

* * *

Hey! Look at that! I'm back! Basically, the girlfriend's at her parents this weekend, so I was left to my own devices. All yesterday, I spent reading other people's fanfics, because I'm crazy like that, and typing up an original work of mine, and well, this plot bunny took up residence in my head and starting running around and around. Finally, I had to sit down and do something about it, and this is the result.

The basic premise of this story is that Katara and Sokka didn't find the Avatar. Aang's still locked away in his little iceberg, or whatever, and so life goes on. I started thinking what that would mean, how it would change things, in the little world I sketched out in my last fic, and the story just kind of sprang from there. The result, like I said, is this.

I'm not going to lie, I really have no idea where this is going. Well, I have an extremely _vague_ idea, but that's about it. I haven't the faintest clue how I'm going to get there, or if I ever am, or how long it's going to take. This is going to be a very slow-moving story, for the most part, with lots of fluff and fun. I'm really happy that, because of that, I can finally work in this little idea I had, that I really wanted to put in _A Different Path_, that being that the different nations would speak different languages. For the record, _Suomi_ is name for Finnish in, well, Finnish, while _Nihongo_ is the word for Japanese (from what I can tell) in Japanese. I know, the Water Tribes should probably speak some kind of Inuit language, but Google Translate doesn't have a setting for _Inuit_, and I just like the way that Finnish flows (_kind of like water, heh heh)_, so the Southern Water Tribes speak what we would call Finnish. The Fire Nation speaking Japanese should be an obvious choice.

I'm going to take this moment to apologize, by the way. As I just hinted, I'm using Google Translate for the different languages. Thus, I apologize profusely for what results. Hopefully, any native speakers floating around on here will understand and forgive me.

Oh, real quick: Why does Zuko speak all the languages? Because, remember, he was royalty for the first eighteen years of his life. Royalty get a level of education that's hard for us commoners to understand, especially back when they were expected to both _rule _as well as _reign, _and part of that education is in languages. For example, Queen Victoria was fluent in four languages (one of which was fucking _Hindi_), while Elizabeth I spoke fucking _eleven_. Thus, Zuko would've been required to become fluent in all the major languages of the world in which he lives, which in my mind equals about seven or eight, plus whatever else he's picked up over his years of wandering.

Christ, this note is almost as long as the fucking chapter. I'll stop now, and get on with the fluff.

In the next chapter, Zuko settles into a routine, one which he finds rather agreeable. Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

2. I ATE DINNER WITH MY CREW, AFTER WHICH I BEGAN GATHERING SUPPLIES. I moved about the cabin I shared with my uncle, a cigarette dangling from my lips, carefully tossing a variety of things into a box. I found a surprising number of useful things, spare scraps of parchment, a few pens, a bottle of ink. I gathered up some old maps of regions we didn't really go to anymore, or never really had, and spent at least a half-hour digging around in my nightstand and around my bed, finding all of the books I had stashed here and there. Most of them I rejected as too advanced, too complex for a beginner, and besides, none of them were in Suomi. This really annoyed me. _Didn't I have that one book in Suomi?_ I know I did. _It was around here some-fucking-where, __**I knew it.**_ It was really starting to piss me off. _Where the fuck did I put it?_

Exasperated, I sat down on my bed, surveying the damage I had done. It really did look like a tornado had hit the cabin, but I didn't really care. All I could think of was that I had _that one fucking book_ and _why the hell can't I find it?_ I ran a hand through my hair, irritation and annoyance swelling up within me. I felt my temper building, closed my eyes, willed it down. That done, I went through the cabin again. I started riffling through my uncle's things, dragging out all the cheesy, sappy romance novels that he loved so much and that, to my ever-lasting shame, I had a tendency to read when I was bored or desperate. Something told me that Katara would find them as thrilling as I did, but they had the benefit of being written in simple, clear language.

Still, though, even when I had every book and tome in the room laid out, I couldn't find a single fucking thing that would work. I had unearthed books in all three of the major languages of the Earth Kingdom, and tons in my own tongue, but none in Suomi. I stomped my foot and resisted the urge to hurl a fireball at the wall. _**Where the ever-lasting fuck are those books?!**_Oh, and the charts we picked up a few years before, early in my exile, charts from the Northern Water Tribe, in the wrong dialect, sure, but all of the dialects used the same written form…_more or less…_

_**Fuck…**_

Finally, at my wits' end, I tried my best to put everything back in its place, with varying degrees of success. My mind was elsewhere, and I wasn't really paying attention to what I was doing. I tossed a couple of my uncle's romance novels in the box, then settled the box against my hip and trudged down the winding corridors and nooks and crannies of the ship, down to the lower decks. There, deep in the twisting labyrinth that I couldn't _believe_ I understood now, I came to the _Junk Room._ I stood at the door, chuckling to myself.

_Junk Room._ That had been the name the crew had given it, during the second year of my exile, when we had stopped using it to store armor and weapons and instead started stashing whatever random crap struck our fancy. I looked down at the door, examining what passed for a lock. Memories swam up in my mind.

_"Gods-dammit, Uncle, this is the best ship you could find?"_

_ "Calm down, Zuko, it really is for the best."_

_ "But, for fuck's sake-"_

_ "Zuko, __**language.**__"_

_ "Ugh, __**fine.**__ For the love of Agni, it's falling apart at the seams, and look at these doors. All the storerooms are locked! How are we supposed to get in, __**when you didn't even manage to get the fu-freaking keys?!**__"_

_ "Well, we could always just break the locks…"_

_ "And what's the point of having a storeroom that we can't lock?"_

_ "What's the point of going off to look for a century-old Avatar?"_

_ "…point. Ah, fu-screw it."_

I shook my head, clucking my tongue. _And then I blasted the locks off._ I suppose we could have replaced the locks, fixed the doors, or even gotten new ones, but somehow, in all the other things we had to do, it just kind of…well…_slipped our minds._ So there I stood, before the only unlocked ship's storeroom in all the world _(I assumed)_, and just kind of…well…_pushed it open._

The Junk Room was exactly as I remembered it, the last time I had chanced to wander in. I tried to remember when that was, but simply couldn't recall. I am a naturally neat and orderly person, and, as such, avoid the room at all costs. It is pretty much the exact antithesis of _neat and orderly_. The room smells of…well…_it smells of disorder_, with that vague sense of decay and forgetfulness that comes with that. I stepped into the room, the box carefully positioned on my hip, a fresh cigarette dangling from my lips, running my fingers over the piles of crap and boxes full of random-ass bullshit. I found a rickety table, piled high with various things, and shoved the odds-and-ends to the floor, setting the box gently so as not to put paid to what little structural integrity the table still had.

With that, I began digging. I found more things along the lines of what I already had, spare scraps of parchment and paper, a couple more inkpots, some well-used pens. I was elbow-deep in one of the boxes when my uncle found me. I don't know how long he stood there, watching me dig around, until he finally decided to get my attention by wrapping lightly on the wide-open door.

I looked over towards the noise, yet another fresh cigarette dangling from my lips, to find the familiar sight, the one comforting constant in my life. I threw him a lazy grin, and he threw it back, shaking his head as he lifted a tea cup from the saucer he held in his hand and to a calm, relaxing sip.

_"Konbanwa, oji."_

He saluted me with the tea cup before he set it back on the saucer, resting it lightly on his expansive stomach. "Good evening yourself, nephew. Looking for something in particular?"

I turn back to the box. "Yeah. Do you remember that one book I picked up when we were in the North year-before-last? The one in Suomi? Or am I just imagining it?"

He shakes his head. "I don't believe you are. I remember it well. I take it tearing apart our cabin didn't produce any results?"

"Heh…no, it didn't."

He waved a hand to encompass the barely controlled chaos around me. "Then, it is, no doubt, somewhere in here, if you are committed enough to find it."

"Oh, I'm going to fucking find it, alright."

He sighs. "Zuko, what have I told you about your language?"

I shoot him a glare over my shoulder. "Not now, uncle. I'm on the hunt, and besides, I don't see any _nice young ladies_ hanging around, so if you don't mind, either can it or help me look."

Instead of answering, he resumes sipping his tea, watching with what is no doubt his usual placid expression as I finally give up on my current box. With a low snarl, I pull out my arms, toss the box to the side, and dig into the one directly underneath it. Finally, his tea finished, he sets the cup and saucer down on the ground and strolls into the room, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans against a small patch of bare wall. He watches me some more, as I grow increasingly frustrated with my current box. I've discarded it and started on another before he finally speaks.

"Do you mind if I inquire, my dear nephew, why it is that you currently on some strange mission to tear the ship apart?"

I don't bother to look up from my task. "I'm looking for a few things."

"Well, that explains everything."

I spare a moment to glare at him before continuing my search. "I need that one book, because it's in Suomi, and I need those charts we picked up in the North, because they're in Suomi, too, oh, and if you remember where I put that one grammar book that I used to teach the crew how to read, I wouldn't mind if you could point me in the right direction." I pause, look up at him, brows furrowed. "And while we're on the subject, whatever happened to that chalk board? The little one that we used to use in those lessons."

My uncle strokes his beard, seemingly deep in thought. "I believe that young Nakamura has it currently. I think he uses it to sketch random things that strike his fancy."

I nod, taking this information in. "Think he'd mind parting with it for a bit?"

"Oh, he certainly would let you take it back, if you asked."

I frown. "That's not what I asked, uncle. I asked if he'd _mind_, not if he _would._"

My uncle shrugs. "Like I said, if you asked, he'd happily part with it."

I sigh. "You're infuriating sometimes, you know that?"

"So you keep telling me."

I growl, low in my throat. "Fine, be that way. If you wouldn't mind, though, please ask Fujita if he'd mind bringing it up with Nakamura."

My uncle arches his eyebrow. "Why don't you just ask Nakamura yourself?"

I shoot him a look. "Because then Nakamura will feel obligated to hand it over." I shake my head, my irritation at my fruitless search fueling my never-ending annoyance at my uncle's cryptic, Zen-like ways. "Look, uncle, I know I'm not a prince anymore. Why do you have to keep asking me to prove it?"

He smiles, taps a finger lightly to his nose. "To reassure myself that you know it." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his pipe and a pouch of tobacco. I watch, bemused, while he calmly packs the bowl with tobacco and lights the pipe, puffing contently for a few moments before continuing. "But yes, I will bring it up to Fujita. Though, I have to ask…_why_ do you need these things?"

I sigh, bury my head back in the box. "Does the name _Katara_ mean anything to you?"

My uncle ponders for a moment. "I'm not sure that it does. Who is she?"

"She's Sokka's sister, the chief's daughter."

His eyes light up. "Ah! The beautiful young girl who you keep trading sly glances with, every time we're here!"

I roll my eyes. "I think the proper term is _young woman_, uncle. She's twenty, hardly a girl anymore."

My uncle chuckles. "Even better! But what has she to do with this?"

"Well, I finally met her today. We had a nice long talk, and shared a few smokes, and went for a walk around the village. Point being, she's interested in learning how to read, as well as learning our language."

My uncle gestures with the pipe at my box. "Hence, the papers and the ink and the books and the interest in a chalkboard."

I nod. "Precisely."

"So, why do you need the things in Suomi?"

"Because, it's her native language. You have to be fluent in your own tongue before you can learn another." I stop rummaging, turn my gaze back to my uncle. "Uncle, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, nephew."

"Why do you keep asking me questions that you already know the answers to?"

He shrugs. "Because it amuses me?"

I roll my eyes, and return to my search. "So, are you going to help me, or just keep standing there, grinning like a loon?"

He pats his stomach. "I believe in sticking to what you know best, Zuko."

"So, grinning like a loon it is, then."

"It is my greatest talent."

"Heh…why _are_ you grinning like a loon, anyways?"

He strikes his infamous _batty old man_ pose, saying, "No reason."

I stop, look up. _If he doesn't stop being a distraction, I'm going to have to chase him off._ I almost laugh at the thought. _Yeah, like __**that**__ would work._ "Don't, uncle."

He places a hand to his chest, eyes wide. "Don't what, Zuko?"

I narrow my eyes. "Just…_don't_. Just for once, let me actually, you know, _like_ a girl before you start planning the wedding and picking out the baby names."

"I don't know what you're talking about. And besides, I didn't do that with the Lady Mai, did I?"

I snort. "You didn't _like_ Mai, remember?"

He frowns. "No, I didn't. Nice girl, but too cold for you."

I shrug, turn back to the box. "Well, I didn't have much a choice at the time, remember?"

He sighs. "Arranged marriages are a bit of a crapshoot, I admit."

"Yours worked out."

"I was lucky. However, I think we're getting away from the point, wherein you just casually admitted that you actually _like _a girl."

I sigh. _Yeah, totally walked into that. _"Uncle, _please_, just…let me have a crush, alright? Don't load me down with expectations and start me second-guessing myself."

He gives a solemn nod. "Alright, Zuko, I will respect your wishes. You have a one-month grace period."

I smile. "Thank you, uncle." I'm about to say something else, but my hands wrap themselves around a roll of dusty parchment. I pull it out, untie the string, blow of the dust, and unroll the scrolls. I gasp in delight, as the Suomi letters and words stand out clear in the dim light of the burning ember at the end of my cigarette. I chuckle to myself, before rolling them back up and redoing the string and tossing the bundle into my box. I nod to myself, smiling to myself, feeling like I just scaled the tallest mountain in the world. I turn to my uncle, my face no doubt plastered with the dumbest grin I've ever had. He smiles back at me, soft and sly.

"Find what you were looking for, nephew?"

I nod. I really do feel just…_fucking giddy_, okay? Like a schoolboy who just figured out multiplication for the first time. "Yeah, I think I did. Well, at least _part_ of what I was looking for." I turn around, taking in the room. "Now I just have to find that fucking book…"

My uncle sighs. "Zuko…"

I roll my eyes. "Gods, Uncle, I'm twenty-two-years-old. When are you going to stop lecturing me on my language? I don't see you griping at the crew."

"Well, they're sailors, Zuko, not princes."

I shoot him a look. "Yeah, well, I'm not a prince, either."

He smiles that enigmatic, strange little smile of his. "Who knows what the future may bring, Zuko?"

I sigh. "Not that, uncle. I think we both know that."

He shrugs. "You could find the Avatar tomorrow."

I laugh. "And do what, exactly? Show up at the city gates after almost four years and wait for my father to hug me? _Please._"

He takes a long, languid puff from his pipe before answering. "So, you'd rather hang around this village and teach a beautiful young woman how to read?"

I reach up, touch my scar, run my fingers along the eddies and furrows of the ravaged flesh. "Yeah, well…I dunno. Why not?" I pull my fingers from my scar, move them to wander through my hair. "But that's neither here nor there. Now, either buzz off, or help me find that book."

He clucks his tongue. "Ahh, the impatience of youth…"

I roll my eyes. _"Uncle…"_

* * *

You know, for this story, I'm going to stop giving little, _In the next chapter_ previews, because, well, _blah_. Like I said, I really don't entirely know what's going on here. Just…I have this strange little story, and I want to tell it, and I'm going to let it take me where it wills.

By way of reference, at this point, in the Canon of _A Different Path_, Zuko should be well-embedded with the Gaang. Aang should have just woken up, and they should be landing in the Fire Nation, or something like that. I picture them either pulling up to Tochigi for the meeting with the Lord and Lady Mori, or just starting off on the trek to meet Master Piandao.

Instead, though, they never found the Avatar. Zuko has been allowed to continue his personal growth and development. All around them, the war wages, and don't worry, we'll get to that eventually. But for now? Zuko was able to get that extra year in exile, during which he spent a lot of time thinking, and a lot of time hanging around the South. Which, after a fashion, has brought him here.

Also, hey! You guys are already flocking to the story! That's pretty fucking awesome. I even have a review! Though that review did complain about the languages thing, which is a valid point, so valid that I feel the need to say: _Yeah, you're right, but I'm a nerd with a boner with languages, sorry._ I mean, Christ, the original work I'm typing up right now is set in the Russian immigrant community in Brooklyn, and has tons of Russian dialogue, because I'm a dweeb like that. *kicks rock* _Sorry about that…_

I really hope you guys like this story. It really is going to be a slow burn. Like…_super slow._ Like, _Stormbenders_ slow. I'm apologizing for that in advance.

In the next chapter…_I haven't a clue what happens._ Zuko and Katara are probably going to have their first lesson, and Sokka might show up and be all over-protective. You and I will find out tomorrow. Stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

3. I STROLL ACROSS THE VILLAGE, BRIGHT AND EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, JUST AS KATARA HAD INSTRUCTED ME TO DO. It's a gorgeous day, barely a cloud in the sky. The sun still hangs low in the horizon, and the breeze is light and clean, heavy with the smell of the sea. My boots crunch through the dirt and the grass, while all around me, the world comes to life. Doors and shutters swing open, old men perch themselves on stumps and stools and light pipes, women bustle about kitchens, children go running through the streets. I narrowly avoid two boys, barely ten-years-old, who barrel towards me, giggling like madmen, before splitting off and crashing together behind me. I chuckle deep in my throat, then move on.

I see everything in those early morning hours. Indeed, the picture of quiet tribal life is so quaint and so close to being perfectly complete that the only absence is all the more glaring, all the more frightening, all the more disturbing. It never weighs on me more than in moments like this, when an entire culture, root and stem, is laid out before me in the soft light of dawn.

_There are no men my age…_

Well, there are, just not many. Here and there is an older boy, sixteen or seventeen, and a few fighting-age men, generally the youngest of some set of brothers, intentionally left behind. And then, of course, there are the maimed, men of all ages, missing hands, arms, legs, eyes, with burn-shaped scars patching their skin.

_I do my best not to look these men in the eyes…_

_ They make my scar ache…_

My final destination is one of the larger houses in the village, and one of the more ornate and well-built, at least by local standards. It rests near the center of the village, right next to the largest building, the meeting house, where the inhabitants meet to discuss and decide. It's still early, so there really aren't that many people about, so I'm surprised to find a small group of young men clustered outside, sharpening spears and daggers and stringing bows, laughing and smoking. For a split second, I consider turning back, making a dash for the ship before they see me. All of the gods-awful romantic plays that my mother used to drag me to go running through my mind, fast as lightning, and I can't help but feel in my gut that the presence of this small party is no coincidence.

I look down at the box in my hands. It's heavy, and I find myself constantly shifting the weight from one hand to the other. I shake my head at the contents. It's hard not to laugh. _Agni, really? Whatever happened to the fearsome Banished Prince?_ An image swims up before me, of myself, early in my exile, with that horrible…_whatever the fuck it was…_on my head. I see the scowl on my face, as it was then, the pain hidden so carefully behind that one still-functional eye, the way that _boy_ ranted and raved at everyone and everything, the way he tried to hide his tears at night. _What would he think of me now?_

I bite down a laugh. _He'd probably be jealous._

I continue my stroll to the front door, slowing down now. The closer I get to the house, the clearer it becomes that the young men are, in fact, merely boys, teenagers, really, except for one, sticking out tall and clear from the group, even though he's sitting down. He has a boomerang in his lap, which he's carefully polishing and holding up in the light, trying to spot stray bits of rust. The group falls silent as I approach, eyes shifting calmly to me, eyebrows arching in confusion at the box in my hands. The one man there, the oldest in the group, rises from the over-turned box he's sitting on, setting the boomerang on top before stepping out of the circle and walking towards me.

We meet halfway, about ten feet from the front door. There's an open smile on his face, but I can't help but feel vaguely…well…_uncomfortable._ I have this maddening urge to bolt for the door, or maybe the window. Yeah, that window right there, the one that's open, the one from which a mouth-watering scent is wafting out, and from which is filtering a soft female voice, humming a jaunty-sounding tune. _Maybe I could just dive in the window? _It's a tempting thought. _Would he follow me?_ I couldn't help but doubt it. I also couldn't help but smile at the thought of the scene that would follow. _Heh…it would make for a good story…_

I push the idea out of my head. I may not be a prince anymore, but I still have my dignity…or, at least, I think I do…

"Hey, Sokka," I say, bowing my head slightly.

He looks me up and down, which is easy to do, since we're about the same height. "Hey there, Zuko." He tilts his head to the side, arches an eyebrow. "What brings _you _here so early?"

I barely resist the urge to let my eyes dart to the door, keeping them focused directly on Sokka. "Oh, Katara didn't tell you?" I jiggle the box. "We have an…um...an _appointment_, today."

Sokka nods slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as he narrows his eyes. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to finding the display at least slightly off-putting. The guy's only, like, two-or-three months older than me, and we're the same height, but the thing is, he just looks so…well…_barbaric _sometimes. He's all thin, sinewy muscle, with broad shoulders and rough hands and this thin, bristly beard that clings to his jaw and rings his mouth. And that…what is called…_warrior's wolf-tail_ on his head? Just completes the image, really. Like something out of a fucking history scroll. I'm pretty fit, sure, and when I put on my armor, I can look downright frightening, even to myself, but just then? When I'm all casual and he's assembling what looks like a war party behind him? I just look like some scrawny city boy who wandered in off the wrong boat.

"You know," he says, rubbing his chin, "I'm not sure I remember anything about that." He waves a hand through the air. "Care to enlighten me?"

The box has become rather heavy in my hands, the edges rough and sharp. It's very uncomfortable, and I desperately want to shift it around and rub the back of my neck. "Well…we were talking yesterday…"

An eyebrow goes up. "Oh? You were _talking_ yesterday? Just the two of you?"

I open my mouth, and then clamp it shut. Sokka's playing his part perfectly, but something has just caught my eye from the group of boys by the door. My one good eye darts back to the spot, finds one boy, face turned away, shoulders shaking, fist pressed to his mouth. The boy next to him is shaking his own head, looking some strange combination of frustrated and amused. Gears twist and turn and slide into place in my head. I let the information process, before turning back to Sokka, who's face is still calm and impassive. As for me, I can feel a grin creasing my lips.

"Yeah," I say, "just the two of us. Back behind that one run-down shed at the edge of town. It was a very…" I look up at the sky, close my eyes, as if savoring some delectable mental image, before turning my attention back to Sokka. "Well…I won't go into details, but it was a very _invigorating_ conversation. Enlightening, even, dare I say. Once in a lifetime."

I watch with great satisfaction as his face falls. Slowly, he turns to what I now know is quite obviously a hunting party. I can't see what he does, but whatever it is, the giggling boy quickly falls into abashed silence, while the other boys do their best to distance themselves from him. Sokka nods once, then turns back to me, a disappointed smirk on his face as he reaches up to scratch his cheek.

"So," he says, "you figured it out, huh?"

I shrug, which isn't that easy to do, what with the fucking box in my hands, the box that I'm very quickly growing very tired of. "What can I say? If you're going to have accomplices, you should make sure they have good poker faces."

He shrugs. "Yeah, well, beggars can't be choosers."

I feel a little sorry for him, I really do. I mean, all the guy wanted to do was mess a little with the head of the guy who probably has the hots for his sister. What's wrong with that? I mean, sure, it's a little backwards and kind of stupid, but life probably gets pretty boring around here, so why not have a little bit of fun, right?

"Hey," I say, smiling, "for what it's worth, you totally had me going for a bit there."

He grins. "No shit?"

I give an emphatic nod. "No shit." I frown, mulling something over before speaking again. "Though, I gotta ask, why bother? I mean, this what you do to every guy who talks to your sister?"

He scoffs. "Gods, no. Have you _seen_ my sister? If I tried to do a little mental ju-jitsu on every guy who stopped to chat with her, I'd never get anything done." He chuckles, obviously enjoying the distant memories. "No," he continues, "that's not what's got me concerned."

I tilt my head, confused. "You lost me."

"Heh…well, you see, you wanna make eyes at my sister? Fine-"

"Wait," I say, sticking a finger up from the box, "who said I've been making eyes at your sister?"

He rolls his eyes. "Me, because that's what you've done every time you've stopped by here for the past _year_ or so, Zuko. Which, like I said, is fine. Dudes make eyes at my sister all the time. Who wouldn't? But…see…the thing is…"

He steps closer, his chest practically brushing up against the box. He rests his hands on the edge closest to him, leans over, lowers his voice, his eyes shifting nervously towards the open window.

"Look, what bothers me is…_my sister has been making eyes back at you._" He leans back, his voice still low. "Guys talk to her all the time, but there aren't many guys she bothers to talk back to." He shrugs again, spreading his hands. "So, you know, I gotta size you up a bit, know what I mean?"

I do some kind of strange head-shrug-tilt-thing that not even I fully understand, even though I'm the one doing it. "I…_guess?_"

"What? Don't have any siblings?"

"Heh…actually, I have a little sister, about Katara's age, unless I'm doing the math wrong."

He smiles. "Ah! So you understand what I mean!"

A picture flashes through my mind, of Azula, standing in my bedroom doorway, cackling like a demon out of a fairy tale and informing me, with a smug look on her face, that grandfather was going to make our father kill me, and then, very politely, asking if she could have my map collection when I was dead, _not that I should feel obligated to say yes, but, you know, it would be rude to do so, and what would I need them for anyways? Spirits don't need maps…right?_ The last was a genuine question, like, really heartfelt and real, which, more than anything, was what scared the absolute _shit_ out of me that night and gave me nightmares for _weeks._

I shake the memory away. "Let's just say that…well…any man who decides to make a go for my sister deserves whatever he gets, as far as I'm concerned."

Sokka nods gravely. "Ah…" He flicks out a finger, twirling it in circles to the side of his head. "Kind of…well…_batty?_"

I can't help but laugh. "That's putting it mildly, but…_yeah_, we'll go with _batty._"

Sokka chuckles. "Yeah, well, we can't all be blessed with a nice family." His eyes turn serious, even as the faint wisp of a smile remains. "Still, though," he says, extending a finger towards my chest, "I gotta say-"

"Hey, brother?"

We both turn towards the open window, to find Katara, leaning over the sill, an amused look on her face. "Yeah, sis?" Sokka says, voice as innocent as a child's.

Katara rolls her eyes at the tone. "If you're done trying to get in Zuko's head, him and I have things to do, and you have poor little animals to kill." She tilts her head, throwing a sly wink at me. "Isn't that right, Zuko?"

I smile back, feeling absurdly grateful for the proffered escape. "Well, if you say so…"

Sokka throws up his hands. "Fine, fine, I can see when I'm not wanted." He socks me lightly in the shoulder. It's a light tap, but it still makes me wince, for reasons I'm not inclined to share at the moment. Fortunately, he doesn't notice. "You two have fun with your girly _reading and writing_, and I'll go be manly and do manly things." He turns back to the others, who are starting to stand and stretch and toss their cigarettes to the ground. "See you later, sis."

"Same to you, Sokka. Be safe, alright?"

"Of course. You, too, got it?"

Katara just scoffs. "Whatever. Get going." She turns back to me, a wonderful little grin on her face. "So, coming in, or what?"

I briefly consider doing something with that statement, if only to mess with Sokka, who, despite the fact that he forgot about my slightly gimpy shoulder, is a good guy, someone that I've come to like and respect. In the end, though, I take the higher path, and decide to just shift the box around in my hands and start walking towards the door, while muttering, "On my way," working hard to get out the words around my smile.

* * *

Hey! We're back! I really can't believe how quickly you guys both found this story, and started liking it. I've gotten a few PMs, wherein you guys are starting to speculate on what's going on here. There's one particular theory that I rather enjoy, but to which all I can do is wink and smile and say, _Well, maybe…_

What theory was that? Well, you know who you are. Woo!

I did get one kind-of/sort-of question about the weather. Basically, I was doing some research connected to the original work I'm typing up, which involved me needing to know what the weather's like in Siberia. Basically, there are very few places in the world that are snow-covered and icy year-round, and while people do live in those places, nobody makes permanent residence there. Even in places that we think of as traditionally _cold_, there are things like _summer_ and _spring._ For example, in southern Greenland, sure, the winters last a good six-to-seven months out of the year, but the summers are apparently quite pleasant, full of green fields and nice, seventy-some-odd-degree temperatures (in Fahrenheit; sorry, _rest of the world_, I'm too lazy to do Celsius conversions). So, being as I'm always all about the reality ensuing, I thought, if we're going to spend some time with the Southern Water Tribes, we should give them something of a vaguely realistic climate. Thus, this.

Also, fun fact, the interaction between Sokka and Zuko is based on something that actually happened to me once. A girl's older brother tried to mess with my head, not maliciously, but just for kicks, and to size me up. I played along a lot longer than Zuko does here, because I have more patience, but still, I thought it was fun.

Also, you can see glimmers of the war, there in the background. For these people, the war is very far away, but also very close. It'll be a little while before we see it directly.

In the next chapter, Katara and Zuko have a lesson, and a few moments. Stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 4

4. IT'S A MODEST HOME, BUT THE STANDARDS THAT I GREW UP WITH, BUT THEN AGAIN, MOST THINGS ARE. It's simply furnished, all plain wooden tables and chairs and simple shutters covering the glassless openings that serve as windows. All of these shutters have been thrown wide open, and the air inside the house is fresh and clean. After she lets me in, Katara guides me to what I assume is a kind of dining room, where I set the box down and start rubbing and rotating the shoulder that Sokka tapped. Katara's one her way to the kitchen when she pauses, turns, a frown on her face.

"You alright?"

I nod, trying to look relaxed. "Yeah, I'm fine, probably just carried this box for a little too long, you know?"

Her frown grows stronger, her eyebrows arching up and down, edging towards each other over her nose. "Uh huh. Wanna try again?"

I give her a smile. "What do you mean?"

She crosses her arms, tapping a finger lightly on her elbow. "That's the shoulder that my brother just punched you in, right?"

I shrug, such as I can. "It's nothing, really. He just gave me a light tap. It really has nothing to do with him."

Her grown is beginning to slowly turn into a glare. "_Uh huh._ Like I said, wanna try again?"

A faint sense of panic begins to roll up my throat. I swallow it, or, at least, try to, running through a litany of excuses and explanations, before the look in her eyes convinces me to give up the fight. Resigned, I heave a bit of a sigh. "It's just…I took an arrow in this shoulder over the winter, and it's still kind of…well…_gimpy_, I guess." I give her another smile. "It's nothing, really. It's not your brother's fault he picked the worst possible place to give me a _man tap_."

She looks at me long and hard, in a way that's vaguely unsettling. I find myself squirming a little under her gaze, not least because I'm well aware that it's _concern_ that her eyes are full of. Having people be concerned about me is not exactly a _familiar_ sensation, and it's definitely not something my childhood prepared me for. Still…

_Well, I have to admit, it's nice…_

"Well," she says, a smile creeping back into her eyes, "in that case, I'll have to give him a bit of a talking to. We can't have idiots socking you in a shoulder that needs to heal all the time."

I chuckle. "There's…there's no way I'm going to be able to convince you that's it no big deal, is there?"

She giggles. "Nope!" Concern floods her face again, and she takes a step forward. "Would you like me to…well…_look at it?_"

I twist my mouth in confusion. "Why? What would you do?"

"Well, I _am_ a waterbender…"

I nod. "I know _that._ What's it got to do with an achy shoulder?"

She arches an eyebrow. "You know waterbenders have healing abilities, right?"

I shake my head. "I didn't _not_ know that." I really didn't. In retrospect, it was kind of a stupid thing to _not know_, considering how much time I'd been spending among the Water Tribes at that point. I give my shoulder a final rub, before stretching my arms out and back in. "Well, I won't stop you if you want to see what you can do, but first, we have work to do. Deal?"

She nods. "Deal." She waves at the table. "Feel free to make yourself at home. There's an ashtray on the windowsill if you want to smoke, and there's plenty of space in here for you to lay out your things. Just…well…"

I'm already rolling up my sleeves to start digging around the box when I notice she isn't talking anymore. I look up, befuddled. "Well…_what?_"

She bites her lip, before reaching up and brushing some of those ever-wandering hairs from her face. "Just…umm…leave some room here at the end, you know, so we can…umm…eat?" She nods, as if reassuring herself. "Yeah…_eat._" She looks up from the floor, seeming to put great effort into focusing on my eyes. "You didn't eat breakfast, did you?"

I shake my head. I won't lie, I was rather lost. _She got thrown for a loop rather quickly… _"Nope, just had a cup of tea and headed out, just like you told me to do." I tilt my head. "You alright?"

She nods slowly, her lip trembling slightly as if she wanted to bite it. Her hand flies up to her brow, as it to wave aside some more stray strands, only she finds none. Her hand floats in the air for a moment, before she gives her head a quick shake and fixes me with a warm grin. "Oh, no, I'm fine." She stretches out her arms, claps her hands softly together. "Right! So…breakfast! You, me, some food!" She nods, though I have a feeling not at me, before turning back to the kitchen and heading in. Just before disappearing, she pauses, looks back over her shoulder. She seems to debate something for a few moments, before finally speaking, all while flashing a rather coy smile.

"You know something, Zuko?"

I look up from the box, a roll of blank parchment in my hands. "Quite a few things, actually. Anything in particular?"

She looks down at my arms, her smile growing wider. "You have, like, ridiculously sexy forearms." She tosses me a wink, says, "Just thought you should know," and disappears into the kitchen.

_It's a few minutes before I fully regain my faculties…_

Breakfast that morning is rather simple affair, very Water Tribe. It consists of a bowl of spiced seaweed noodles, a few strips of seal jerky, and some sliced fruit, served with an ice-cold glass of juice. I'm not normally a big fan of seaweed…well…_anything_, but it smells heavenly and I'm pretty hungry so I pick up my chopsticks and dig right in, after complimenting Katara, of course, and thanking her profusely. When she blushes bright red under my praise, I blink a few times, and ask, "Do you not cook often?"

She shakes her head, nibbling on a piece of jerky. "Oh, no, I cook all the time." She gives an exasperated sigh. "What, you think _Sokka_ cooks his own meals? _Please._" She washes down the bite of jerky with a gulp of juice, looks up at me. "Why do you ask?"

I feel rather flustered _(how __**does**__ she keep doing that?!)_, but press on. "Well…you just seemed to…be rather affected by all my compliments…"

She smiles at me over her glass. "Oh, yeah, it's just…people don't really _thank_ me very much when I cook. It's just kind of…_expected_, here, that women will do that, you know? So it's not really…_commented_ on."

I shrug. "I guess. To be honest, I never actually ate a meal with the same person who cooked it. Like…_ever_." I pause, rummage through a few boxes of stale memories in the back corners of my mind. "Actually, I don't think I ever even _met_ the people who cooked my meals until I left home and started traveling on my ship."

She mulls that over while she swallows a few noodles, before pointing in the air with her chopsticks. "Really?"

I nod. "_Really._"

She ponders the implications of that statement for a few moments. "Well, then…I gotta ask…who cooked your meals before you left?"

I shrug. "Servants."

She nods. "Right, you were rich and stuff."

I roll the taste of that around in my mouth before deciding that I like the noodles better. "Eh, I guess you could say that. I'd be more inclined to just call myself _rather well born._" I frown into my bowl, still slightly uncomfortable with the words I'm saying. "We don't really equate _wealth_ with _power_ or _social standing_ in the Fire Nation."

"Well, what do you equate with those things?"

"Well…you know how, here, your standing in society is all about how much you contribute to the community? How, the more you do for the tribe, the more respect you tend to get? It's kind like that, only more violent."

"I see…only, not really. How do you mean?"

"Hmmm…" I struggle for words to describe the concepts we're touching on, only…the words don't really exist in Suomi. Every culture is like that, at the end of the day, home to a veritable _plethora_ of complex concepts and idea that are unique to that particular culture and, as such, have words attached to them that don't really translate across culture lines and linguistic divides. Finally, I settle for a shrug. "Actually, I'm going to have to admit defeat here. If you don't speak Nihongo, then it'll be almost impossible to explain. Point is, in the Fire Nation, it's all about power, and getting what you want, being the strongest and meanest kid on the block."

She shakes her head. "Sounds kind of…well…_awful_."

I can only nod at that. "It actually is, to be honest. I'm sad to say that it took me a few years to realize that."

She shrugs. "None of us are born perfect, Zuko."

I laugh. "Isn't that the truth? But, you know what? Enough about me. What about you? If you're to be my student, then I should know a bit more about you."

She smirks at me around a piece of fruit. "You don't like talking about yourself that much, do you?"

I sigh, slump down onto the forearms I have lightly resting on the edge of the table. "Not really, no. I mean, I don't mind really talking about _me_, per se, but…if you go back far enough, you run smack-dab into this," I tap my scar, "and then I get all uncomfortable and tight-lipped."

She gives me a comforting smile, and, before I know what she's doing, she's reached out and laid her hand lightly on my scar. For a brief, terrifying moment, my heart leaps into my mouth and I almost bolt away and out one of the windows. My chest burns and my one good eye flies as wide as it possibly can and I feel dizzy and weird and just _what the fuck is she doing?!_ People just…_people don't do that to me. _They don't touch my scar like that, or look at my scar like that, or even, well…_look at my scar at all._ That's why it's so easy to hide the fact that my left eye is completely dead and blind; people are so eager to move to my undamaged side that they don't bother to question the real reason why I'm so happy to have them there. Without even thinking, _without even trying_, Mai's last words to me ring in my ears like city bells at noon.

_I'm sorry about your face, Zuko. It was…I really liked your face…_

The words didn't hurt. I remember that. Why should they? We never liked each other all that much, anyways, or, at least, _I never liked her._ It was just that…_she was trying to be nice._ And, to be honest, _that hurt the worst of all…_

Instinctively, I start to lean back. The terror in my face registers in hers, and for a moment, she almost pulls away. I feel the tremble in her fingertips, the hesitation racing along her skin, and then, I finally look into her eyes, and I see, I see, _I see…_

_ I see kindness…_

I don't move. I don't breathe. I just…_wait…_

And then, after what feels like a long time, she rests her hand fully on my scar and runs her thumb softly across what used to be my eyebrow.

"Well," she says, nibbling on her lip, "just so you know…um…I actually like your scar."

I swallow hard. My mouth is very dry. "You do?"

She nods. "I do. I just…_it's part of what makes you…well…__**you.**_" She giggles at herself. "Does that make any sense?"

I try on a thin smile, a smile that I'm very surprised to feel seep into the rest of my face. "Yeah…I think I do. I mean…I wouldn't have thought that a few years ago, but…now?" I reach up with my left hand, rest it on hers. "Yeah, I think I see what you mean."

A moment passes, long and slow, silk running smooth and cool over a warm finger on a soft summer day. Her thumb moves again, retracing its route across the ruined eyebrow, gently following lanes and grooves. It almost feels as if she's drawing the pain away, sending it like morning dew, making it vanish and float away with the summer breeze.

I really don't know how long we would've sat like that, looking into each other's eyes, her hand on my scar, my hand on hers, if that damn dog hadn't barked. But bark it did, somewhere outside, shattering the silence and making us both jump apart. We sat for a moment, blushing like children caught kissing behind the schoolhouse, running our fingers through our hair and over our clothes and taking drinks from our juice glasses practically in unison. Finally, she coughed into her hand, flashed me a shy, slightly embarrassed smile, and said, "So, umm…you wanted to know a little about me, right?"

I nod, trying hard not to laugh. The sparkle in her eyes is definitely _not_ helping. "Well, umm…if you don't mind…"

She giggles. "No, I wouldn't mind at all." She picks her chopsticks back up, and begins to gather some more noodles. "So…umm…where should I start?"

I mimic her movements, desperate to have something to focus on other than those endless blue eyes. _One could really get lost in those eyes…_

"Oh, well…wherever you want, really…"

"Heh…_well…_"

* * *

And we're moving right along! I really like this chapter. Actually, I'm kind of digging this story in general. It's kind of sweet. Man, I sure don't hope that I'm not planning to give you twenty chapters of fluff just to hit you with a roundhouse kick of awfulness. I mean, I know we all know that I'm kind of cruel, but surely I'm not _that_ mean…right?

_Right…?_

Anyways, for those who didn't notice, this version of Zuko doesn't really talk about the fact that he's the former Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. It's really not something he likes to think about. Early in his exile, it just made him angry and sad. Now, it just makes him depressed. I like the idea that he doesn't talk about it with _anyone_, except maybe his uncle.

_Well…and someone else, but he doesn't know that yet…_

In the next chapter, we talk about teaching, and maybe some other stuff happens…or not…whatever! Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

5. WE WORK ALL THROUGH THE DAY, PAUSING ONLY FOR ABOUT AN HOUR OR SO AROUND LUNCH. We take the opportunity to go for a walk through the village, talking and smiling and just in general acting like two dumb kids. She lets me buy a few fish at the market, but steadfastly refuses to let me cook them for her, no matter how much I protest that I know how and would be happy to. She mixes up a delightful stew, and we eat it out on what passes for the back porch of the house, watching the sun crawl across the sky. Just like after breakfast, though, I get my revenge, stealing her bowl away from her and going to the kitchen to do the washing up. When she protests, I make her a deal: Anytime she makes me food, I get to clean up, but one of these days, _I'm_ going to do the cooking, and then _she_ can clean up.

We both find this very acceptable. The fact that we basically just admitted that we'd be doing this again goes completely unremarked. It doesn't even occur to me that this is the implicit meaning of the exchange until a few days later, and even _then_, it takes my uncle to point it out to me. Oh, the chuckle he got out of that…

The work, actually, was, well…_not really work._ My uncle and I spent the first year or two of my exile making sure that every single member of the crew could read and write, which left me with quite a bit of experience in teaching such things to non-children. As such, I learned very quickly that a big part of success was not in the techniques used by the teacher, but by a willingness to learn and, more importantly, _to work_, on the part of the student. Needless to say, Katara had these two qualities in _spades._ Seriously, if I'd had her work ethic as a kid, I would've been allowed to move to intermediate firebending forms at eight, like you're supposed to, instead of ten, like I did.

_And work she did._ Once I had transformed her dining room into a makeshift classroom, complete with makeshift charts and makeshift education supplies, she applied herself with a fury and drive that I couldn't help but be entranced by. We started with the basics, of course, that being the alphabet. The night before, I had taken the time to write out each letter of the Suomi alphabet, along with pronunciation guides and the like, and spent the entire morning going over it, bit-by-bit, line-by-line. She already spoke the language, so it was largely a matter of matching the letters to the sounds she already knew. And she worked hard at it, despite her initial disappointment. I'll never forget the look on her face when I laid out the parchment I had written the alphabet on, pointed at what, to her, were strange, alien squiggles, and said, "What're these?"

I smiled, said, "Why, that's your language. At least, the pieces of your language."

She studied them intently, before shaking her head and clucking her tongue. "I gotta say, I was expecting a little bit…well…_more._"

I scratched my head. "What do you mean?"

She raised a finger, reached into my now half-empty box, and pulled out on of the books in my language that I had brought along. She opened to a random page, nodded, and put it down before me. "Well, I was expecting something like _that_, you know. I _like_ these letters. They're prettier, more…I dunno…_elegant._" She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. "I guess I was expecting the language of the people who bend _water_ to be just as…well…_elegant_ as that of the people who bend _fire._"

I shrugged, placing my hands on the book, framing hers. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, my people didn't really invent our alphabet."

She looked up at me. "You didn't?"

I shook my head. "Nope. We pretty much just stole the Earth Kingdom's alphabet, fiddled with it a bit, and made that our own. Then, we did our best to pretend that we hadn't actually done it." I took her hands in mine, moved them over to the page with her alphabet on it. "Your people, on the other hand, have the honor to say that you came up with your alphabet, all on your own. That's mostly why it looks so different. Everybody else just swiped the Earth Kingdom's first alphabet, because they were…well…_first._ Your people, on the other hand, came up with something completely different."

A flush of pride swelled in her face, and as she reached up to brush hair from her face, she gave me the most wonderful little smirk. "So, the pathetic Water Tribes managed to pull off something that the _great and powerful Fire Nation_ couldn't even be bothered to do?"

I shrugged, trying my best to look cool. I knew I was failing miserably, at every possible turn; my only consolation was the faint hope that she was struggling as much as I was at a similar task. "What can I say? My people have never really measured up to their propaganda."

She giggled. "Right? I mean, look at you!"

"What about me?"

"You're a product of the most feared civilization in the world right now, and yet, here you are, just being, like, the worst fucking villain in the entirety of human existence."

I shrug, smile. "Yeah, well, I never was very good at doing what I was supposed to do."

"Heh…hey, Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"You're still holding my hands."

"Oh…right…sorry…"

"Don't be…"

"Heh…"

After our lunchtime break, we moved right along into application. I started her small, having her sound out the various names of members in her family and people she knew and then pointing out the letters that matched the sounds she was making. After about an hour, she started to get the hang of it, and was soon picking out the letters on her very own. From there, we moved on to simple words, things like _Hello (Hei), Goodbye (Näkemiin), yes (kyllä), _and _no (ei)._ She found all of the accent marks and, as she called them, _those weird little dot things_, to be particularly frustrating, but pretty soon, she had gained a fairly basic grasp even of those.

Through it all, we talked. Learning something as complex as an alphabet at the age of twenty is hard, exhausting work, and we had to pause often so she could rest her eyes and work out the cramps in her fingers and, most importantly, keep her brain from getting overloaded. We talked a lot about her family, about how she'd lost her mother to the Fire Nation at the age of eight, how her father had gone off to the war soon after (_I wished him many bloodless victories, and she agreed with me wholeheartedly_), how her brother had wanted to go off as soon as he came of age, but the village council had demanded that he stay behind, to stand in his father's place as chief. She talked about how, every year, a new crop of boys boarded boats and went to war, and so few of them ever seemed to come back. She talked about life in wartime, of the fear, the deprivation, the shortages, how they always felt as if they were standing on the edge of a knife, there on the tip of the world.

I talked a lot, too. A lot had happened to me in my four years of exile, and I made a good start on telling her every last detail. She was practically _starving_ for details of the outside world, as much as I could possibly give her. All through the days that followed, she would hound me with questions, until I had described every last thing of any place I mentioned, right down to the color of the grass and the way the stars looked at night.

And, yes, at some point, I began talking about my life before my exile. It didn't happen that first day, or even that first week, but at some point, it happened. I spoke in vague generalities, and she seemed to accept this without argument. She let me go at my own pace, just as I let her go at hers. And somehow, I don't know when it happened or why, I just kind of…started telling her things I'd never talked about before.

Not my exile, though, or my banishment. Never that.

_I couldn't bear to consider what she might think of me…_

Our last act of the day, before calling it quits for the night, was what I referred to as her _First Final Exam._ I gave her a serious of sounds, out of any discernible order, and she found the letters for those sounds. Then, I had her put all the letters together, in various orders, just enough to confuse her as to my purpose, until finally settling on a final one. Then, I had her write the word before her, over and over again, until it gained form and substance. Then, when she was just starting to get sick and tired of the exercise, I picked up the piece of paper, held it before her, tapped the word, and said, with a swell of pride I'd never known I could even experience, "That, Katara, is your name."

She blinked. Her face went pale as a block of ice. Her eyes went wide and all the color drained from them. She reached out, took the paper, ran her fingertips lightly over the curves, the swirls, and the bends. She lifted her fingers from paper, placed the tips on her lips, ran the tips over those very same lips. She was captivated, in awe. She looked at me, at the paper, back to me, then back to the paper. Finally, she very slowly, very carefully, lifted the paper to her lips, and gave the word there a soft, gentle kiss.

It's difficult to describe how she looked, when she raised her eyes back to me. She looked…_divine._ I'd never, in my entire life, seen someone as happy as she looked just then. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She had this wonderful, incredible, _indescribable _smile, and her lips trembled with what I could conclude was joy. Without a single ounce of warning, suddenly, she leaped up from her chair and hurled herself into my arms, burying her face in my shoulder and doing her very best to hug me to death. Of their own volition (_or so it seemed to me_), my arms wrapped themselves around her, and I held her close, and just then, right there, _I never wanted to let go…_

The words she said were simple, very simple, but they were still the most powerful words I'd ever heard in my entire life, at least up until that point.

_"Thank you, Zuko. Oh, gods, thank you, thank you, __**thank you…**__"_

We were just beginning to untangle ourselves when her brother came in, stomping dirt from his boots and bragging loudly about the kill he had brought home and just now hung up outside the front door. He stopped for a moment, confused, and perhaps he intended to say something, make some sort of comment, about how close Katara and I were sitting, about how her hand was on my arm, and about how my hand was atop that hand, resting very light, but very heavy, all at the same time. But then, he seemed to pause, take in the look on his sister's face, and all he could do was smile.

"I take it you two had a good day?"

Without another word, she leaped out of her chair, ran to him, chattering excitedly, shoving the parchment in his face. She dragged him over to the table, showed him her work, made him look at all the names, at his name and their mother's name and their father's name and their Gran-Gran's name. His eyes seemed to tighten at the sight of their mother's name, and he definitely looked disappointed in how…well…_plain_ his own name looked, written out on a piece of parchment at a strange slant and in a childish sort of handwriting. But when Katara showed him the paper with _her _name on it, and made clear just how happy it made her, he held nothing back. He hugged her fiercely, as only a brother can, and told her, in no uncertain terms, just how _proud_ he was of her. She almost burst into tears at this, and was jumping up and down, clutching the paper to her chest, as words spilled in a torrent from her lips.

_"That's awesome! I'm so happy! Zuko's so kind and patient and he says I'm learning fast and he says that tomorrow we're going to work on more words and practice letters more and maybe by the end of the week we can start working on sentences, or maybe next week, I forget, but I'm so excited and this so amazing and he says you can even learn with us if you want, he won't mind, he said so, didn't you, Zuko, and oh, Sokka, __**isn't this amazing?!**__"_

He nodded, a big, stupid grin on his face, of the kind I was quickly learning only he could really produce, and turned to me, and said, with a sparkle in his eyes, "It is amazing, it really is." He paused, his smile growing wider, and then he said, "So, see you tomorrow morning, Zuko?"

I shrugged, gathering up the papers and ink and stuff and putting it back in the box, which I laid to the side, and said, "Well, if no one objects…"

Sokka took one more look at his sister before he said, "How could anyone object?"

To my eternal, ever-lasting surprise, he actually _embraced_ me (albeit, in a _very_ manly way) before I left. Katara gave me an even bigger hug, one that bordered on intimate, and which made my blush in a way I hadn't even guessed was actually possible. Then, I took my leave, promising to be back at the same time the next morning. I paused a few steps past the door, sticking a cigarette in my mouth and snapping it alight. I was taking a long, deeply satisfying drag, before Sokka's voice made me turn around.

He stepped out into the gathering darkness, letting the door shut quietly behind him. He pulled out his cigarette. "Mind if I ask for a light? Katara says you do a really cool _snap_ _thing_ with your fingers."

I laughed. "Not at all." I demonstrated the trick, and he nodded and pursed his lips in appreciation as he took his own few satisfying puffs. We stood in silence for a few moments, basking in the growing gloom, before he spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?"

I nodded. "Sure, anything at all."

"Cool…why are you doing this?"

I thought about that long and hard, just then. The answer was obvious, of course, but the way in which to put it into words? _Not so obvious._ I knew what he was _actually_ asking, but, then again, I don't think he really had any idea how I was going to answer.

Finally, I looked him right in the eye and said, "Have you ever taught anyone something?"

He nodded. "Of course. I'm practically the oldest guy here. I teach every boy everything."

I chuckled. "Well, you know that moment, when a student works and works and works, and then, something clicks in their head, and the light goes on in their eyes, and they almost seem to…I dunno…_glow?_"

He nodded. "Heh…yeah…"

"It's the best feeling in the world, isn't it?"

"You know what…it really is." He reached up then, laid a hand lightly on my shoulder, and said, "But you also have a big crush on my sister."

I shrugged, rubbed the back of my neck. "Yeah…I do. Is that okay?"

He laughed. "I'm of two minds. A part of me, the part that stands in for my father, isn't very pleased. But the big brother in me? Well…he's just happy that the guy my sister has a crush on has one on her in return." He paused for a moment, before continuing. "But that has nothing to do with why you want to teach her these things, does it?"

I shake my head, slowly, but surely. I have so many doubts about so many things in my world, in my life, _in my very soul_, but this? This, I have no doubts about.

"No, it doesn't. It's just…this other thing, if that makes sense. They may cross paths, but they're two very different, very separate things."

He nods, slowly, then pats my shoulder, very softly, and said, "Well, in that case, if you're late tomorrow, I'm going to personally come kick your ass. Got it?"

I laugh, tap a finger to my forehead, and say, "Got it, big brother. See you in the morning."

He chuckled, and began to head back inside. "See you then, _jerkbender._"

And, of course, I wasn't late the next morning. I was never late, even on the nights when I laid awake long past sunset, a stupid little grin on my face.

* * *

Hey, remember when I said that I was teacher? Well, I like to think that this chapter proves it. I fucking _love_ teaching, guys. It breaks my heart every time a school decides they don't want to give me a chance. There really is no job that is as frustrating, heart-breaking, infuriating, time-consuming, and downright fucking _awesome_ as education. Somewhere, in my heart-of-hearts, I like to think that this story, with its subplot of education, will convince someone to give the profession a try. Who knows? I like to think my stories can work miracles.

The latter part of the story, by the way, the exchange between Sokka and Zuko? That's because I want to make sure you guys understand that Zuko's not just teaching Katara because he has a crush on her. In fact, that has nothing to do with it, just like Katara didn't ask him to teach her just because she has a crush on _him._ Education, and the desire for education, goes beyond those things.

Anyways, in the next chapter, which you might get tomorrow, might now (I have some work shit to do), Katara finds that she _really_ doesn't like sentences, and probably some other crap happens. Stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

6. BY FRIDAY, WE HAD MOVED ON TO SENTENCES. Katara really didn't like sentences. Actually, that's putting it rather mildly. To spell it out properly, one would have to say it the way _she_ said it, which went a lot like this:

"Gods, Zuko, sentences fucking _suck._"

I lean back in my chair, trying not to laugh. "Do you kiss your brother with that mouth?"

She rolls her eyes. "I do my best to stay as far away from my brother as possible, to be brutally honest. I mean, have you _smelled_ his breath? Yeesh."

I let a low chuckle slip out of my mouth. "Can't say that I've spent that much time in close contact with him"

She gives me a rather emphatic nod. "Well, do your best to keep it that way. Boy still hasn't learned that _taking a bath_ doesn't have to be a _once a week_ ritual."

I cast a glance out the window, where billowing wisps of cloud are swirling across a pale blue sky. "Even in the summer?"

She scoffs. "Shit, Zuko, that's only his schedule _in_ the summer. In the winter, I'm lucky if I can get him in a bathtub more than once a _month_. There have been times when I've had to practically toss him in the sea, it got so frustrating."

The mental image is delightfully amusing, I have to admit. "Well, in his defense, I would imagine that one would have to bathe that much when winter hits this part of the world."

She shakes her head. "That's his excuse, but he doesn't have to live with himself, does he?"

I tilt my head in agreement. "Point. So, what you're saying is, he's pretty much a classic _icky boy?_"

She giggles. "Pretty much. Not like you at all."

I arch an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

She shrugs. "Well, you're always clean and tidy, and you _always_ smell, like, _really nice._" As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she seems to realize what she just said, turns bright red, and starts to sputter a bit. Fortunately for her, I'm just as flustered, which is why I immediately rein in the conversation and return back to the task at hand, hoping she's too busy blushing to notice my own.

"So…umm…what exactly is it about sentences that you don't like?"

She takes a few moments to compose herself, focusing on the piece of paper before her, on which I've had her write out a few basic sentences (things like _I am Katara, You are Zuko, The weather is nice today_, stuff like that). She nibbles a bit on her lip, fiddles with her hair, and furrows her brow in concentration, all of which I find outrageously distracting.

"Well…umm…yeah…_sentences…_umm…it's just that…well…I dunno. It just seems so…_random_. I mean, why do we have to put things in that particular order?"

I thank the gods for the way these lessons have the ability to keep me from focusing on things I shouldn't be focusing on, and lean forward, adopting what Katara has come my _Teacher Pose._ "So the words we put on the page make sense."

She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. "But don't we already have a way to put things that makes sense? Why can't we just write the way we speak?"

I roll my head around on my neck, considering my words. It's in important lesson, one I myself struggled with when I was a kid. "Well, for a couple of reasons. A big one is that, well, not all people talk the same. Heck, just take the other Southern Water Tribes. Do you all speak the same version of Suomi?"

She considers, shakes her head. "No, we don't, I have to admit. Really, the further away from here that someone comes, the harder it is for me to understand them. But what's that got to do with this?"

"Basically, if everyone wrote the way they spoke, then there'd be almost as many ways to write things as there would be people doing the writing. So, there has to be a standard way to write things down, so that everyone who wants to can learn it."

She gives a slow nod, though her eyes make clear that she's still not convinced. "Alright, I _think_ I get that, but what about the other reasons? You mentioned that there were several."

"Well, in essence, the way people talk makes no sense."

She rears back a bit in her seat. "The way I talk makes _perfect_ sense."

I laugh. "True, but think about the way you think, or the way you talk when you're excited, or tired, or not really paying attention to what you're saying. If I'm listening to it, I understand it just fine, but put it down on a page…"

"…and it looks all weird and garbled." She moves from nibbling one side of her lip to nibbling the other, tapping the end of the pen in her hand against her nose. "I guess I see where you'd going…but…I dunno…it still feels so…_fake and random._ I mean, why that particular order? Why do I have to construct my sentences _that particular way?_ Why can't it be…I dunno…_any other way at all?"_

I prop my elbow on the table, settling my face in the palm of my hand, a thin, wistful smile on my face. "You know, I asked the exact same question of my language tutor, back when I was a kid."

"Heh…really?"

_"Really._ I fucking _hated_ grammar and sentence structure and all of the things you're hating on right now."

She smiles. "Heh…that makes me feel a lot better. So, what'd he say?"

"Who?"

"Your language tutor."

My smile fades. "Well…he gave me ten swats with a switch for being disrespectful, and then my father gave me twenty more for the crime of getting switched."

Her eyes go wide, a look of disgust on her face. "_What?!_ You're kidding!"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not. Things are done a little bit…_differently_, in the Fire Nation."

Her look of distress shows no signs of abating. "But…_that's awful!__"_

All I can do is shrug. "I suppose so, to outside eyes." I raise my hands, heading off her inevitable objection. "Not that I'm defending it; trust me, I'm not, especially the way things were done in my house, which were severe, even by Fire Nation standards." My scar twitches at that, but I ignore it and press on. "But the thing is…_everybody_ went through things like that. So, in a weird way, it just kind of…_tied us together_, if that makes any sense."

She mulls that over a bit. "So, it was like this…_shared experience_, kind of thing?"

I nod. "Pretty much. Plus, when everybody's being treated that way, you don't realize that there might be something wrong about it. It's just kind of a…fact of life, kind of thing."

She nods. "Well, I don't like it, and I'm just…_horrified_ that someone would do that to a kid. We don't believe in beating our children in the South. I mean, we get _disciplined_, don't get me wrong, but anyone who would raise their hand to a child is considered the lowest form of life possible, _especially_ their own child."

I sigh. "You might be on to something there." With a shock, I realize that I'm touching my scar, rubbing it gently, and that Katara's noticed. I jerk my hand away like it's been burned, move it to rubbing my neck, and clear my throat. "But, I believe you had a question?"

She nods slowly, a look of concern on her face. The question, the one I dread, the one I've spent years running from, is there, in the depths of those bottomless, entrancing blue eyes, but she doesn't ask it. Instead, she says, "I did. Did you have an answer?"

I smile weakly, still trying to recover from the moment of vulnerability. "I do, though you're not going to like it."

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Well, what is it?"

"Heh…in essence, things are the way they are because…well…_they are_. Somewhere along the way, some guy-"

"Or girl."

My smile gains a hint of life and reality. "_Or a girl_, could've been either/or, but yeah, some _person_, somewhere along the way, decided that things should be done _thus_. And, because no one else had the time or inclination to say otherwise, well…_here we are._" I chuckle softly. "You're lucky, though. Your language's grammar isn't _nearly_ as screwy as some."

She makes a face. "Wait…I thought you said we weren't doing grammar until, like, next week?"

"We're not, trust me, but still, you're lucky. Gods, you're even lucky with the spelling. Unlike my own language, your language is actually, in general, spelled the way it's said. And don't even get my _started_ on our grammar rules. At least yours have some bend to them."

She laughs. "Well, that's what you get when you just up and steal someone else's writing system without bothering to take the language, too."

"Heh…you have no idea how right you are."

Her face takes on a thoughtful expression, as she seems to roll something around in her head. "You know, it really does put the lie to your country's whole…I dunno…_reason for doing what they're doing._"

I purse my lips in thought. "How do you mean?"

"Well…I mean…no offense or anything, but for a country that claims to bringing their superior civilization to the world, it's kind of sad that their own _alphabet _isn't even their own. It really shows just how much you guys, well…don't think things through, you know?" She looks down at the table, thoughtfulness giving way to apology. "No offense or anything…"

I wave the apology away. "None taken. Seriously, none taken. In fact, you have the honor of just having taught _me_ something."

She looks up, eyes bright. "Really?"

I smile. "You bet! I've honestly never really thought about it quite that way before." I laugh, reach over, take her hand firmly in mine. "In fact, you've just convinced me." I raise my other hand, as if taking an oath. "I, Zuko, formally renounce my native land and all its works, on account of the fact that cutest and smartest waterbender I've even seen has pointed out that we couldn't even think our own language all the way through."

She giggles, obviously enjoying the show and the solemn way I intoned the oath. "Well, I'm glad I could bring one more convert to the cause of righteousness! One can never have enough handsome, awkward boys running around."

Silence falls, as we both fully process what the other just said. I take a deep breathe, swallow, and say, "You think I'm handsome?"

She blushes, brushes some hair from her face. "You think I'm smart?"

More silence, another moment, silk brushing against bare skin, cool and light and smooth, but this time, there's no dog to bark and break it. Instead, we just kind of…_stare at each other_, for what feels like a very long time, until, finally, the need to say something becomes overpowering.

"You know," I say, rubbing the back of my neck, "we've really got to cut down on these little moments of ours."

She arches an eyebrow, her mouth twisting into a smile that I can only describe as _coy_. "And why on earth would we want to do that?"

I gesture weakly at our little ramshackle schoolroom. "We'll never get anything done, otherwise."

Her smiles grows bigger and, for lack of a better word, _coy-er_. "I think we get _plenty_ done, Zuko."

"Heh…maybe so, but we still haven't done much work on _sentences_ today."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Then you're doing an _excellent_ job. I really wish you'd been in my classroom, back when I was a kid."

"But if I'd been in that classroom, you wouldn't have learned all the awesome things you're going to be teaching me."

"You know…speaking of that…I've decided that this is a very unfair exchange."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm going to be doing my best to teach you everything I know, but _you_ aren't going to teach me _anything._"

She frowns. "What could I possibly teach you?"

I laugh. "Tons of stuff! I mean, yeah, sure, I know all of this _book crap_, which is what you want to learn, but you know all of this _practical crap_, which I've had to learn the hard way, if I've learned it at all."

She smiles, brightening at the idea that some Fire Nation noble would casually admit to being clueless about something at which she was an expert. "You know…you're right. There is an incredible amount of stuff that you don't seem to know."

I smack my hand lightly on the table. "Well, there you go! From now on, on weekdays, I teach you what I know, and on weekends, you teach me what _you_ know."

"I like that! We're going to start with cooking."

I make a face. _"Cooking?!_ I already know how to cook, thank you very much!"

She shoots me a look. "I mean, we're going to start with teaching you how to cook _properly._"

I look down, grumbling in a way that doesn't even convince _me._ "Ugh, _fine_. I mean, I was hoping for something cool, like how to skin a seal or something, but we can go with cooking…"

She laughs, wags a finger in my face. "Hey,_ you_ were the one who was all, _We have to learn the boring parts of reading and writing before we can get to the fun parts._ That's why I'm sitting here glaring at stupid sentences. So, before I'll let you skin a seal, you'll have to sit down with me and learn what to actually _do_ with the seal once you've skinned it."

I sigh. "I beginning to think you're too smart for your own good."

"Heh…my mother used to tell me that every day."

"Yeah…mine, too…"

She sighs. "Well, I guess we should stop flirting and get back to work."

I nod, feeling a little depressed at the thought. "Yeah, I suppose so…"

She looks at me, looks down, then back at me. "We should probably let go of each other's hand first, though."

I jump a little in my chair. "Oh, right, yeah, that might help…"

After a bit of awkward fumbling, we finally got back to sentences, which Katara found just as unpleasant as before. She still quickly mastered the basic concepts, though, because of course she would. She's Katara.

* * *

You know what I hate? Fucking grammar. Which is ironic, because I live with an English major. You know what's even more amusing? The fact that, because she's Latina, she can correct my grammar _in two motherfucking languages._ And yes, before you ask, I find it ridiculously sexy.

Anyways, not much to be said about that chapter, other than that it was fun. If you want to learn more about the comparative grammar rules of Japanese and Finnish (which I read and took notes on, because I'm a dork and History majors get off on research into things no one could _possibly_ care about), I encourage you to search the Wikipedia entries for both _Finnish grammar_ and _Japanese grammar_, which are, in fact, actual things that exist, as well as being actual things that I derived _far_ too much enjoyment from reading.

Shit, I even bookmarked them. _I need help._

In the next chapter, Zuko suffers a fit of insanity, and takes Katara to his ship's Music Night, because he really wants to make Iroh's job easy for him. Stay tuned!

PS - That was a fun author's note. I should do more like that.


	7. Chapter 7

7. EVERY OTHER SATURDAY, MY CREW CELEBRATES A LITTLE TRADITION OF MY UNCLE'S DEVISING WHICH WE CALL _MUSIC NIGHT_. It is _exactly_ what it says on the tin, and something I once loathed with a passion. My crew loved it, though, from the very beginning, and eventually, as the years of my exile wore on, their enthusiasm wore off on me. I can't say that I _love _it, exactly, because acting like idiots with musical instruments isn't exactly what I would voluntarily choose to call a _good time_, but…well…I'd be lying if I tried to say that it wasn't rather fun.

As luck would have it, though, a Music Night happened to fall on the Saturday of the second weekend of our stay with the Yuupik tribe. Katara and I had spent a rather trying and frustrating week, learning the basics of grammar and spelling. Suomi is kind, in that its grammar is really quite fluid, but that doesn't make it any less irritating to, well, _anyone_, much less a twenty-year-old doing her best to learn the rules for the first time, even a twenty-year-old as intelligent and hard-working as Katara. We even got a little testy with each other a few times, no matter how hard I tried to remember how much I struggled with my own grammar lessons, once upon a time. By Friday, though, she finally made something of a breakthrough, and I'm honestly not sure who was happier about it, her or me. Once again, her brother was forced to sit as she babbled on about what she had learned, while he tried his best not to look bored (because, let's face it, grammar is _boring as __**fuck**_). As I sat there, watching the domestic scene, basking in the warmth of Katara's joy and enthusiasm, something that I can only describe as, well, _madness_ overtook me. Before I even really knew what I was doing, I announced to the room that, in honor of Katara's breakthrough after a long week of excruciating work, I had decided that I would like to take her to my crew's Music Night the next evening to celebrate.

Needless to say, as soon as I said the words, I would've given _anything_ call them back. I mean, _what was I thinking?_ Casual flirting and grammar lessons were one thing, but all but asking Katara out on what could only be called a _date?_ I had obviously lost my mind. I quickly began to run through the symptoms, trying my best to decide on a diagnosis. I had just made up my mind to seek assistance from the ship's medic when Katara made me doubt her own sanity by bursting into a smile and saying, "Why, that sounds _awesome!_ I'd _love_ to go!"

I'm pretty sure my mouth fell open. I know for a _fact_ that my eyes went wide, and I can't help but suspect that my face when pale as a sheet. In short, I'm fairly certain that, for a few moments there, I looked like some kind of chronically ill fish that had been left out in the sun for too long. So, imagine my surprise when Sokka nodded slowly and said, "That does sound like fun, actually." I was beginning to suspect that I was a victim of some strange, twisted dream, a feeling made all the more intense by Sokka's next words: "I mean, you guys have just been working away in here for two weeks, and last weekend, my sister had you banging around in the kitchen for two days straight. You should do _something_ entertaining."

I nod, slow and painful, wondering if it's a sign of an impending heart attack for my body to be completely numb. "So…umm…you're okay with it?"

Katara just scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm twenty-gods-damn-years-old. If I want to go do something, I do it." She rounded on her brother, an accusing finger out. "Also, you can't go. This is a celebration for Zuko and I."

Sokka crossed his arms and huffed. "Like I'd want to go to some stupid Fire Nation thing _anyways._ You two go, have fun, bring me back some good jokes."

Katara laughed, loud and fierce. "Like you'd know a good joke if one hit you in the face. You're just as bad as Dad."

Sokka gasped, obviously deeply offended. "Hey! Dad's jokes are just fine!"

Katara clucked her tongue. "You would think that."

In the meantime, I had laid two fingers to my neck, checking my pulse. Satisfied that I was, indeed, still alive, and not in the process of dying, I finally reached the conclusion that I had, indeed, lost my fucking mind, and was no doubt spiraling further down into the abyss of insanity with every passing second. That settled, I began to wonder how I could manage to bring Katara to the party without my uncle losing his shit with glee.

Needless to say, I really shouldn't have bothered even thinking about it. I'll never forget that moment, later that evening, standing in our cabin, shifting from foot-to-foot, desperately trying to decide how to phrase things in as calm a manner as possible, until I finally just blurted out, "So, umm…yeah…I invited Katara to Music Night and…umm…please don't get weird about it?"

His eyes went about as wide as saucepans, and he leaped out of bed and did what I can only describe as a _jig_ all around the room, giggling like a schoolboy. I watched him all the way through the entire sordid process, my heart slowly crawling its way down my throat and into my stomach, until, finally, he stopped, probably for breath, and said, "Oh, Zuko, that's _wonderful_. The entire crew will be over-joyed. We're going to throw out all the stops, and get the food and drink we hold back for special occasions, and, oh! I'll make sure to get the tsungi horn out of storage!"

I crossed my arms, trying my best to hold on to the last shreds and tatters of my dignity. "Uncle, I don't care what you say or what you do or what plots you cook up, I am _not_, under any circumstances, playing the fucking tsungi horn."

He snapped his fingers in the air. "That reminds me, we're going to have to work on your language."

I shook my head, trying hard not to stomp my feet. "I don't care how much you try to distract me, _I'm not playing the gods-damn tsungi horn._"

His eyes sparkled like the sea at dusk, as he clapped his hands together and sighed in a way uncomfortably reminiscent of an elderly spinster reading a steamy romance novel. "And I'll have to pull Kashiwagi aside and have him give you a haircut. In fact, the entire _crew_ could use a haircut and a shave..."

I buried my face in my palm. _"Uncle…"_

"And I'll have the cook prepare some Water Tribe food. Didn't you mention the Lady Katara giving you some cooking lessons? You'll have to share some of those recipes with good old Nakadate…"

At that point, I gave up. I simply threw my hands in the air and walked out of the cabin, secure in the knowledge that my uncle had taken no notice of my departure, and had no need of my continued presence. As I left, my only action was to nod and feel somehow secure in the knowledge that the healers of the Earth Kingdom were right, madness really _was_ contagious.

And that's how I came to be standing at Katara's door as the sun began to slid beneath the horizon, dressed in the nicest clothes I possessed (which wasn't much; I had celebrated my twenty-second birthday by tossing all of my carefully maintained formal robes and regalia into the sea), my face freshly shaved and my hair carefully and painstakingly done up in a casual-sort of topknot. How long did I spend on that topknot? Why, not long at all. How long should I have spent on that topknot? Really, it was just for show. It was all my uncle's idea to get the haircut. And you know what? It's not like I spent a half-hour carefully policing for stray hairs before I made the walk to the house. That would silly. No, really, I didn't. Honest.

_Honest._

All of those thoughts quickly flew from my mind, though, the second the door opened. There, standing before me, framed by flickering candles from within and bathed in the dying light of sunset, was the single most stunning woman I'd ever seen. Katara was dressed in what could only be described as…well…_a dress_, the closest that the Southern Water Tribes got to formal attire, form-fitting and flowing, all the down to her shins. Her voluminous hair had obviously been carefully combed, brushed, braided, and set precisely in place. Even the habitual stray strands that brushed her left eye seemed just one more piece of the puzzle. Delicate earrings dangled from her ears, and her necklace looked freshly polished and shined. I had a strange mental image, of her and two or three girlfriends, fussing over her hair for hours on end while her brother groaned and whined in the next room.

I'll admit, I gaped. I might have even ogled. I know for a fact that I tiled my head slightly, so that my one good eye could get as full of a view as possible of the gorgeous young woman standing before me. The fact that I seemed to recover so quickly can only be ascribed to the etiquette lessons that were literally beaten into me from birth. As carefully and humbly as I could, I bowed low, bending fully at the waist, with form and grace that would have sent my etiquette tutor to an early grace, had he seen it.

_Bastard always did accuse me of not paying attention…_

"Lady Katara, it is a pleasure to see you this evening." I slowly and carefully pulled myself up, back straight and shoulders back, that crazy old tutor's lessons ringing in my ears. "It would be an honor to accompany you tonight, if you are amenable to such an outcome."

She blinked, an incipient giggle sparkling from the corners of her eyes. I had given the customary greeting in Nihongo, because that was the only way I knew how to say such a thing, but somehow, she seemed to have understood. She nervously _(wait, __**she's**__ fucking nervous?)_ brushed out some nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, threw her shoulders back, and said, "You just asked me out for the evening in a very courtly manner, didn't you?"

I nodded slowly, terror rippling through my veins. "I did," I said, lapsing back into Suomi. "I…kind of lapsed back into my old etiquette lessons there." I reached up, tugged at my collar, desperate that she somehow be unable to see.

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "I see…have I ever told you that I find it rather distracting when you speak your native tongue?"

I tilted my head down a bit. "You've mentioned it a time or three."

She nodded. "Well, in that case, I believe we have a date to keep." She tilted her head towards where my ship was berthed. "Shall we?"

I bowed again, though not as deeply this time. "We shall."

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a wild Sokka appeared, poking his head into the doorway beside his sister's face. "Hey, Zuko! Wow…you're on time."

Katara rolled her eyes. "I _told_ you he'd be on time. The Fire Nation doesn't work like we do."

I frowned. "I'm not sure I follow…"

Sokka grinned that stupid, happy little grin of his. "Here, we have something called _Water Tribe Time_, which basically means that you always arrive for everything at least an hour or two late. That's why I was telling Katara not ten minutes ago not to get so nervous, because _surely_ you'd not be here for at _least_ another hour."

I croak out a laugh, eyes still locked on Katara, unsure whether to be elated or frightened by the fact that her eyes were locked just as tightly on me. "Well, as your sister pointed out, things work a little bit differently where I'm from…"

He waved this aside, his hand flapping briefly into frame, coming perilously close to touching his sister's hair. From the look that passed briefly over her face, if he had actually _dared_ to make contact, his hand would have very quickly been separated from his arm. "Whatever. Look, do me a favor?"

I nodded, still not really looking at him. "Name it."

"Right. If anyone asks, especially if my Dad happens to bring it up one day, when you came here tonight, I was seated on the doorstep, ominously sharpening a knife and giving you the Evil Eye. Got it?" He pauses, considers his words, then adds, "In fact, that's how I greeted you _every_ morning. That clear?"

I nod again. It seems to be the only action I'm capable of. "No worries, I'll play my part."

He reaches out a light fist, making for my gimpy shoulder, until an _ahem_ from Katara makes his fist stop in mid-air and make an awkward course-correction for my arm, where he gives a tap so light I barely feel it. "You're a pal, Zuko." He turns to his sister, smiles, says, "You two have fun, alright?"

She rolled her eyes so hard that I briefly feared that they'd fly out of her head. "We'll _try_, Sokka. Tell Kirima that I said hello."

Sokka's had flew to the back of his neck as an intense blush flooded his face. "Oh…well…umm…yeah…if I see her…"

She popped up, gave him a peck on the cheek, said _goodbye_, then shut the door behind her.

_Then it was just us…_

I cleared my throat, and tried my best to put on a confidant face. "You look lovely tonight, Katara."

Her face lit up, and she reached up and brushed those couple supposedly stray strands to the side. "You really think so?"

I nod. "I wouldn't say something like that if I didn't mean it."

She nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. "There are a lot of guys I wouldn't buy a line like that from, but…somehow…I believe it from you."

"Heh…thank you, my lady."

She giggled. "You keep using lines like that, and I'm going to be a puddle at your feet."

I give a shallow bow. "Then I shall endeavor to stop, if my lady requires."

She scoffs. "Oh, gods, no, please don't." She nods her head towards the ship, reminding me of our destination one more time. "As I said before, though, shall we?"

I smile. "We shall."

I move to her left side, and she threads her arm through the crook of my right one without a moment's hesitation. We begin walking towards the ship, slow and steady, not hurrying, not a care in the world. My heart is pounding away in the back of my throat, and I'm pretty sure that I'm dreaming, and _surely_ this can't be real, but somehow, I don't care. I've never been more relaxed in all my life, even as a terror greater than the one that gripped me on the eve of my first battle four years before shivers through my body.

"You look quite handsome yourself, Zuko."

I chuckle. "You really think so?"

She shoots me a smile. "You're not the only one who only says what they mean."

"Heh…point taken."

We take a few more steps. At no point do we stop, though somehow, the further we walk, the closer we seem to move towards each other.

"So," she asks, "how long did you spend on your hair? Because it looks great. A _huge_ difference from that shaggy mop you usually have."

I throw my whole body into what I hope is a nonchalant shrug. "Oh, ten minutes, max. No big."

"Uh huh. So, an hour?"

"At least. And you?"

"About the same. Ten, twenty minutes."

"So, all afternoon?"

"Pretty much."

We share a soft, light giggle. I really can't get enough of her laughter. _What the hell is happening to me? I'm a prince, royalty, the flower of a proud nation, the product of centuries of tradition and breeding, hardly one to get giggly with a pretty girl, no matter how beautiful, or smart, or how much she's a woman, not a girl, or…_

I stop myself. It's hard not to laugh.

_You haven't been a prince for a long time, Zuko…_

_ Why bother even thinking about it?_

I don't bother to answer that, because I've known the answer for quite some time now.

_I'm not a prince anymore…_

_ So why not have some fun?_

Like I said, I don't answer the last. It's my uncle's voice, booming in my head, that answers for me. I shake the words away, not because I don't appreciate them, but because my uncle's voice is the last sound I want to hear right now. I turn to Katara, the faint whisper of her voice ringing in my ears, and say, "What was that?"

She smiles, says, "I was just asking, anything I need to know?"

I shake my head. "Just have fun, and try to forgive my uncle. He's…well…_excited_ is the best way to put it."

She arches an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I fight down a laugh. "Well…he's been on me to meet a nice girl for some time now. So, your presence is something of a…I dunno…_validation_ for him."

She laughs. "Ah, I see. My Gran-Gran is exactly the same. You should've seen how she hustled and bustled about all day today when I told her what was going on."

"I think I need to sit down and meet you grandmother one of these days."

"You really do." A pause, a few more steps. "So, anything else I need to know?"

I consider for a bit. "Just have fun."

"I can do that." She giggles. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm better at that than you are."

"Heh…no doubt. Is there anything in particular you need to know?"

"Umm…any of your crew speak Suomi?"

"My uncle does, as well as I do, and a few of the crew can make themselves understood. Why?"

"I was just wondering if there were any words I needed to know, in your language."

"Well…what would words would it relax you to know?"

"Well…how about _yes_?"

_"Hai."_

_ "No?"_

_ "Īe."_

I have to work with her on that one before she asks for her next word.

"Right. That one was weird."

"I know. What else?"

"_Please?"_

_ "Dōzo."_

"You guys like your weird sounds."

"Oh, trust me, I know. And, before you ask another question, _thank you_ is _arigatō."_

"Finally! An easy one! So…_arigatō?_"

I nod. "_Arigatō._ Perfect, by the way."

She squeezes the spot where her hand rests on my forearm. "_Arigatō."_

I smile. _"Olkaa hyvä."_

We're almost to the ship now. She's speaking, saying, "You know, one of these days, I'm going to speak your language as well as you speak mine."

I don't laugh, I don't smile, I don't crack wise. Once, the idea that some _Water Tribe peasant_ could speak my language as well as me, or master it in the way that I, a product of the Fire Nation, could master hers, would be so ludicrous as to barely be worth entertaining. Now, though? Well, it's enough to say that all I do is nod and say, "Of that, my lady, I have no doubt."

We're making our way up the gangplank to the ship. The sounds of my crew filter down to us, making clear that the revelry is already well underway.

She looks up at me. "You really don't, do you? You really do believe in me?"

I look back at her, right into her eyes. "I do."

She smiles. "Well, for the record, I believe in you, too."

I smile back. "Then I believe in me, too."

With that, we're stepping onto the deck, and my uncle is beginning my evening of humiliation by wrapping Katara in a big bear hug and proclaiming to all and sundry how happy he is to finally see his nephew on a real, live _date._

As far as my dignity's concerned, it all goes downhill from there.

* * *

I'm having way too much fucking fun with this story. I hope you guys are, too.

By the way, the Japanese translations are the product of the finest work that seconds in Google Translate can provide. I hope you enjoy my hard work, and appreciate that irony that the guy who read a giant Wikipedia article on Finnish grammar can't be bothered to hunt down an actual Japanese speaker. Woo!

In the next chapter, I'm pretty sure I'll touch on the actual Music Night. I think? There will _definitely_ be Zuko humiliation, because you really think Iroh's going to pass this opportunity up? _Please._ Stay tuned!


	8. Chapter 8

8. MUSIC NIGHT WAS JUST AS HUMILIATING AT I HAD FEARED. The chief instigator of my humiliation, of course, was my uncle. He leaned into his task with gusto, enjoying himself far more than a man who claimed to love me should possibly be able to do. Faint memories wafted up to me over the course of the night, especially for the first few hours. I couldn't help but think of the early days of my exile, especially the first year, the days when my scar was still red and fresh and it bled at night if I didn't take care to sleep on my right side. Those days were long and cold and full of pain, even in the heat of summer, and I cried bitter tears that were my only company through the long watches of the darkness. In those days, I hid in the cabin, and wore my helmet every chance I could. I wore an absurd warrior's ponytail, a long stalk of hair carefully tied and braided that erupted from a clean-shaven skull. I scowled at the world, and even the slightest dent at my dignity was enough to send me into a towering rage, of the kind that only a rightfully wronged eighteen-year-old is truly capable.

Tonight, though? I bristle and sigh under my uncle's barbs, and yet, somehow, I can't help but feel relaxed and…well…_happy_. Joyful. _Fucking __**content.**_ I don't know what's happened to me. Once, I would have asked what was wrong with me.

_ I don't ask that now…_

It starts with the _sake._ Without consulting me, my uncle and Captain Fujita have decided to break open the crate of _sake_ that we keep for special occasions and haul it on deck for the evening. Normally, we would content ourselves on such nights with cheap whiskey or whatever foul local brew we had picked up from the last port we called at. Genuine Fire Nation _sake_ is hard to come by for people who live our lives, wandering from place-to-place, forbidden to set foot in the Homeland so long as I still draw breath. When we get ahold of a bottle or two, we carefully store it in a box that stays under lock-and-key in the Captain's quarters, and that requires both his key and a key that only I carry to unlock.

It's also my favorite alcoholic beverage. I never pass up the chance for a few cups. My uncle knows this, and no doubt had this fact in mind when he lifted the key from my pocket sometime that morning. Thus, my first humiliation, that I didn't even notice the act of being pick-pocketed by my uncle.

My second humiliation comes when I realize that I'm kind of grateful to my uncle for taking the initiative, because no way was I going to suggest such an action on my own.

Humiliation was piled atop humiliation from that point on, as the crew threw themselves into song after song, dancing and capering about like fools, while cups of _sake_ were pressed into my hands and my uncle regaled Katara with embarrassing tales of my childhood. The sheer repertoire that he possesses of these stories is shocking, even to me; I can't help but wonder how he came by them. He tells of the year I spent terrified of turtle-ducks, because one bit me when I was four, and of the time I set my pants on fire while practicing firebending forms at seven. He describes the last with hearty facial expressions and great mirth, even as I turn bright red and try to explain to Katara that he's exaggerating greatly, even though we both know he's not. She plays along, though, her arm firmly threaded through mine, and shares the story of how, not a year before, she managed to freeze her brother to the ground while practicing an advanced waterbending technique. Most of my crew doesn't understand a word she's saying, but somehow they grasp the meaning with a minimum of translation and burst into an appropriate level of hysterics, which is then exceeded when by Captain Fujita leading the crew in a re-telling of the time I managed to firebend myself right off the deck of the ship and into the sea, which my uncle, suddenly forgetting his Suomi, forces me to translate for Katara.

_Word for fucking __**word…**_

At that point, I'm almost relieved when the instruments come out. We launch into a long hour of singing and dancing, the crew capering about and various men trying their hands at singing, with varying degrees of success. Some sing old Fire Nation tunes, while some try tunes of their own creation. We applaud every effort equally, no matter how terrible, and Katara joins in with glee. Her cheeks are flush from the _sake_, and as the night wears on, somehow, we seem to almost blend into each other. When one crew member, a boy my age named Kai, stands and hurls himself into a long, slow love ballad, she leans her head on my shoulder, and hums along with the tune. The chorus of this ballad requires everyone to sing along, and I help her learn the words, and by the end, she's belting out the chorus with the entire crew, word-for-word, in perfect harmony.

I lay my head atop of hers, doing something that can only be described as _nuzzling_, which partially explains why I don't see my uncle disappear into the ship. I'm genuinely surprised when he thrust the tsungi horn into my hangs, though I really shouldn't be, because, come on, I'm terrible at this fucking thing, I've been expecting it the entire night. I'm still floored, and I protest loudly, waving my hands and shaking my head and feeling a soft, steady rage building from within as my uncle continues to wave the horn about in front of my face and my crew chants, over and over again, _"Play it! Play it! __**Play it!"**_

I'm pretty sure I would've won. Really, I'm certain of it. It's not the first Music Night that my uncle and my crew have tried to shame me into taking up the tsungi horn, and I knew it wouldn't be the last, even though we all know that I'll always find a way to decline and dodge. And yet, just when I feel like I'm going to win, just as I start to feel the crew lose interest and my uncle grew sated with his little game _(because, really, he never expected me to take the horn, how could he, he was just having fun, and somehow, I love him for it)_, I chance to look over at Katara. Her eyes are wide and her face is earnest and she says, very softly, and very kindly, _"I'd like to hear you play it…"_

The next thing I know, the horn is in my hands and I'm pressing the mouthpiece to my lips and I have no idea what just happened and all I know is that I've finally decided to give in to the madness. My uncle is laughing himself sick and the crew is calling out various tunes for me to play and then I'm playing the horn for all I'm worth and it's terrible and awful and horrible and I haven't touched a tsungi horn in fucking _years_, not since before my exile, and I wasn't that good at it _even then_, but I don't care, because Katara is watching me, her face in hands, eyes wide, a faint, glorious smile on her face, and I just don't fucking _care_.

I can't begin to understand what happened to me. Like I said before, madness was the order of the day that evening. How else to explain why I took the horn, and why I enjoyed playing it so badly, and why I enjoyed it so much that I even had to stop and struggle to contain my mirth as the crew made snide remarks about my lack of skill? Not a few years before, I would've tossed the horn into the sea and threatened to burn them all alive, and what's more, _they would have believed me._

All I can do is shake my head in wonder. _What the fuck happened to me?_ I can't help but suspect that it was something good.

I finish playing, and, mercifully, someone takes the horn away, and there are pats on the back and Katara is beaming at me and a fresh, over-flowing cup of _sake_ is pressed into my hand and I drain it and I watch Katara drain hers and she's _still_ beaming at me and all is right with the world, even though my uncle is so happy that all I can think is that he's finally run out of humiliations, but I'm wrong, because suddenly, the crew starts demanding a song. This is insane, because my singing voice is infamously terrible, but the madness has taken full control of my mind and next thing I know I'm singing.

The song I sing is a popular one back home, called _As I Am_. It's basically all about coming to terms with who you are, and accepting yourself for that, and loving yourself for that, and not being afraid of what the world thinks anymore. The crew recognizes it instantly, and begins singing along with me, thankfully drowning out my own voice, which, when I sing, sounds like a lemur-bat being run through a tank tread, or at least, so I think. And yet, there I am, belting it out, leading the crew through the chorus, when I look to Katara, and her eyes are brimming. Later, I find out that she forbade my uncle to translate the lyrics for her, only allowing him to tell her what the song was about, and then commanded him to either sing along or be quiet, and kept her eyes locked on me the whole time.

_As soon as I see her looking at me, of course, I don't look anywhere else…_

When I'm done, I feel drained, exhausted, but energized in a way that I haven't felt in years. I bow to the crew, who drown me with applause, then I bow to my uncle, who can't stop laughing, and then, finally, I bow to Katara, who can't stop beaming. _Am I beaming at her, too? _I really don't know. I've never asked her. _It doesn't really matter, in the end…_

And then she's up and in my arms and the crew is striking up a lively tune and we begin to move. We move and we spin and we swirl. We come from two different nations, opposing elements, really, and yet, here we are, dancing and swinging and swirling, and we can't stop, we can't stop dancing and we can't stop laughing and it's the most fun I've ever had in my entire life _and I don't want it to end…_

We dance the night away, and as we finally stagger down the gangplank, the moon hanging high in the sky, our arms around each other, laughing and giggling and holding hands, cigarettes blazing in the night, she leans very close to me, lays a soft, gentle kiss on my cheek, and says, _"I really like you, Zuko."_

I laugh and I smile and I kiss her forehead and I whisper back, _"I really like you, too, Katara."_

It was, quite literally, the best night I'd ever had, up until that point in my life.

* * *

This chapter was fun. I had fun. Are you having fun? I know I am.

Oddly enough, this chapter is _not_ based on personal experience with my family, but rather, with my best friend, Pickles, who does her best to haze every girl I've ever brought before her. So far, in…God…_fucking __**years**_ of knowing each other, she's only approved one, and that's the girl I'm pretty secure in saying I'll spend the rest of my life with.

But enough about that. Point is, my family never hazed me. They never really cared enough to. That's the job of my friends. But enough about me. Point is, this chapter was fun.

In the next chapter, Zuko asks Katara a question. He doesn't get the answer he expected, but he does get the answer he didn't dare to hope for. Stay tuned!

For those playing the home game, _As I Am_ is the Japanese version of the every-present, endlessly entertaining _Let It Go_, from the movie _Frozen._ You can find my favorite version of the Japanese rendition here: watch?v=x4JdySEXrg8. I love it. I listen to it at least once a week, because I'm a dork, and I love listening to songs in foreign languages. Plus, the lady who sings it, in my humble opinion, beats the shit of Idina Menzel, which is saying something. And before someone asks, "Why would a popular Fire Nation song be about snow?", I hasten to remind you that people tend to sing songs and romanticize what they don't know. There's a reason Southerners lust after snow and New Englanders lust after Florida.


	9. Chapter 9

9. IT'S NOT UNTIL WE REACH HER FRONT DOOR THAT I FINALLY GATHER THE COURAGE TO ASK THE QUESTION THAT'S BEEN BURNING IN MY MIND FOR TWO SOLID WEEKS. We're standing there, bathed in the moonlight, across from each other. We standing very close, our hands clasped, fingers entwined, and our hair is a little messy now, sure, but neither of us can stop smiling and neither of us makes a move to go and I get the feeling that she wants the evening to end as little as I do. It's late and I have no idea what time it is and I really don't care, and I look into her eyes and know that she doesn't, either. From inside the house, her brother's snores rattle the walls, but we don't hear them, and we certainly don't pay attention. We just look into each other's eyes, and smile, and go for a bit of a mental swim, and then, finally, the _sake_ and the evening and the joy and the laughter complete the cycle of madness and I just have to ask. I have to know. Before I allow my hopes to rise any higher, _I just have to know._

"Can I ask you a question?"

She smiles, which should be impossible, because she was already smiling as much as any human being should be capable of. "Anything, Zuko, _anything._"

I sigh, look down at our hands, clasped tight together, my thumbs nervously running along the bumps of her knuckles. "You know what I'm going to ask, don't you…"

She nods, the smile not leaving her face. "I do, but it has to be asked, so please, just ask." She takes a step closer. I can feel her breath on my face. My head goes for a swim. "I promise you, the answer isn't as terrifying as you think it is."

I inhale, I exhale, and then, finally, I ask. "Why me?" I let that sink in for a moment, then press on. "I mean…you have every reason to hate me. My nation has…my people have done their best to take _everything_ from you. You have no reason to like me, and every reason to despise me. I mean…" I chuckle. "Just think about how much of an asshole I looked when I first stopped at this place, almost four years ago, and how much of a fool I acted. So, I just have to ask…_why?_" I look up, deep into her eyes. "_How is it that you can like me?"_

She takes a deep, long, wavering breath before she answers. When she does, it's the last thing I expected to hear, and the first thing I hoped for.

"When you first came here, I hated you. I hated the very sight of you. I thought of the man who took my mother away from me, the men who my father and all the men of the village and of the tribes went off to fight, of the men in horned helmets who came and hunted us like animals for so long, and I…_I fucking hated you._ And…well…" She giggles. "You didn't do much to fight that first impression. Sure, your uncle came to the shore, and your men did their best to be polite and all, but you stood on your ship, leaning against the railing, with that ridiculous haircut you had, and just glared and scowled and acted the perfect picture of the spoiled Fire Nation noble out to make the world bend to his will. And yet…"

She reaches up, touches the right side of my face, tracing my eyebrow, running her thumb around my eye and across my cheek. My skin turns red, blood rushing to my skin, and it's very hard not to press my cheek into her palm and close my eyes.

"And yet…when you had departed, I went to my Gran-Gran, and I vented my rage, and you know what she said?"

I shake my head. My voice is barely a whisper. _"What did she say?"_

She leans even closer. I can feel her breath on my skin.

"She said, _You know what that boy needs? That boy needs a hug."_

It's hard not to laugh. She sees it in my eyes.

"I know, right? I thought she was crazy. And she just shook her head and said, _Some people show their pain on the outside, wear it on their sleeves. And some? Well…they bury it deep, and hide it behind a mask of anger and pride. That boy is in a lot of pain, and it has very little to do with that mark on his face._"

She bites her lip. Her thumb continues its strange wanderings over my face. I do nothing to stop it.

"And then I started to think. Every time you'd come by the village, I'd follow my brother, and watch him talk to your uncle, and I'd watch you. Then you started coming down into the village with him, and then you started doing some of the talking, and then all of the talking. Your crew stopped wearing their helmets, and then they stopped wearing their armor, and then they stopped carrying weapons altogether. And through it all, _I watched you._ And somehow, I knew, you were different. You weren't the man who took my mother away from me, who shattered my family, who terrorized my village, _you were none of them._" She stops, takes a deep, ragged breath. "What were you?"

I look down, at the black abyss that follows me wherever I go.

"I was lost, and lonely, and scared. Shamed and humiliated. Unsure of where to go, or what to do." I look back up, meet her eyes. "Everything I knew had been stripped from me, and I was left with nothing. _I was nothing."_

She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "Something tells me that you've never been nothing. I watched you, and yeah, _I made eyes at you._ All the girls in the village did, once we saw that you were different, especially when you stopped hiding behind that helmet and that braid and the walls of your ship. You chased the pirates from our seas, and brought us goods. You paid for everything you took, and paid in kind, and spoke our language, and learned our dialect, and all the other little things you did. And…well…" She bites her lip, and my head does a spin. "You started coming here more often, stopped even going to the other tribes, and you'd scan the crowds when you arrived, your eyes would skip over the other girls, girls prettier than me, girls _easier_ than me, and you'd always find me, and your eyes would stop there." She giggles, reaches up her other hand, rests it lightly on my scar. I don't push it away.

"So, yeah, how was I to _not_ develop a crush on you?"

I chuckle, deep in my throat. "You know, I'm still going to grill you hard on grammar this week, no matter how nice you are to me tonight."

She giggles again, a light, tinkling sound, bells in the moonlight.

"See? How can I _not_ like you, with lines like that?"

I laugh. "Lines like what? I have no lines."

She shakes her head, a smirk on her face.

"And now, every day, you confirm it. You treat me like an equal. You don't look down on me, despite the fact that you were probably raised to do so from birth." She tilts her head. "Which brings me to the fact that I have to ask_ you_ a question."

I shrug, my face still encircled in her hands. "It's only fair, I suppose."

She laughs, deep in her throat. "Well, you say that now, but I actually have two questions, so it's not a fair trade."

"Heh…it will be, because I'm a man of few words."

She laughs again. "_That_, I know. But still…why aren't you that man? Why are you so different?"

I tilt my head to left, pressing my scar into the hand that rests there.

"Because…something happened to me. Something…_something terrible_, because I proved myself to not be the man I was raised to be. For a few years, I did my best to try to _be_ that man, and then…well…" I shrug. I'm struggling for words. I'm expressing things I've never expressed, thinking thoughts I've never thought, saying things I've never said, and all in a language that's not my own. And yet…_nothing has ever felt so natural._ "One day, I realized that maybe I never wanted to be that man." I see the clothes, the finery, the marks and badges of the office I was once born to, slipping beneath the waves, while my crew cheers me on. "I decided to be something else."

She nods, slow and sure, spreads her right hand, pressing her palm into my scar. "Which brings me to my other question. It's the same as the one you asked me: _Why me?"_

I raise my left hand, lay it on hers, press her fingers into my scar.

_"Because you were never scared of me."_

She doesn't say anything for a long time. I'm scared, terrified. I've never been this open with anyone, even before my exile, and certainly not after. A thousand-thousand horrid scenes play out in my head. I see her storming away, bursting into tears, swearing never to speak to me again.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice in my head, that sounds an awful lot like my own, says, _Yeah, but we already know she's not most girls._ I listen to the voice, let it seep into my bones, and sigh, deep in my mind. Somehow, I know what she's going to say, and what she's going to do.

She takes her hand away from my scar, pops up, presses her lips softly to the cheek below my dead, useless left eye. She lingers, and then she pulls away. She smiles, soft and bright and clear in the night.

"Good night, Zuko. I had a great time. I'd really like to do this again."

I smile, lean down, not really thinking, _just doing_, and press my lips to her forehead. I try not to notice the soft sigh that escapes her lips as I kiss her there and pull away.

"Me, too. Though maybe, next time, you can sing for me."

She blushes bright red and lets a soft giggle escape her lips.

"It's a date."

I nod. I really don't want to know how stupid my grin looks.

"I should certainly hope so."

We linger for a moment more, until she says, "See you Monday morning," then slips into the house. The door clicks softly behind her, and she's gone from my sight, though never again will she be gone from my mind. I walk back to the ship, though I don't know it. I might as well be flying, because I'm floating on a cloud, my head stuck firmly in the heavens above.

My uncle doesn't even bother to tease me, which is fine, because I wouldn't have noticed it anyways.

* * *

Once again, I'm having _waaaay_ too much fun. I'd talk more, but it's time for bed. My only comment about this chapter is that it's basically quelling anyone (or at least, I hope it is) who might say that everyone is acting all _OOC_ and shit, and that I'm making too many leaps and stretches. It's important to remember that this is basically taking place in the universe I made for _A Different Path,_ only without Katara and Sokka finding Aang. So…yeah? I dunno. It's bed time!

In the next chapter, I'm pretty sure Zuko will chat with Iroh, and Iroh will be all…_Iroh-y_. Stay tuned!


	10. Chapter 10

10. IT'S ANOTHER CALM, BREEZY FRIDAY NIGHT, THE FRIDAY AFTER MUSIC NIGHT, WHEN MY UNCLE STROLLS INTO OUR CABIN. It's a fairly bare bones cabin, especially now, since all of the finery and tapestries I insisted on bringing along have long since either been sold, bartered, stored away, or thrown into the sea. What's left is a nice, quiet room, with standard cots for beds and a long, simple desk along one way. One side of the cabin is my uncle's, one is mine, and anyone with even a passing acquaintance with the two of us would be able to tell which is which. My side is neat, tidy, orderly, everything clean and in its proper place. My uncle's side, though…

_Well, let's just say that he doesn't worry too much about keeping things __**tidy**__…_

I'm stretched out on my bed when he stomps in, whistling some random little tune. I'm staring up at the ceiling, one arm behind my bed, the other arm bent, the hand resting on my chest, a cigarette burning from between my fingers. From time-to-time, I raise the hand, take a shallow, slow drag, let the smoke seep naturally from my lips and my nose. I'm in a very calm, relaxed, languid-sort-of-state. The night is cool and quiet, the ship creaking softly around me. I'm far away, floating amongst the clouds; I barely even notice my uncle strolling in, a silly grin no doubt plastered on his face.

I don't have to look at him to know what he's doing. He huffs and hums and sighs, changing into his sleeping clothes, doing everything with that slow, relaxed way he has. He settles down into the bed with a sigh and a creak of contentment, and I listen as he leans his back against the wall and prepares his pipe. I know the rest, the _fwoosh _of the flame he bends, the sizzle of the tobacco in the pipe bowl, the meditative way he takes his first few puffs. I would no doubt be able to practically _hear_ the cogs turning in his head, if I had cared to listen. As it was, my mind was elsewhere, even if it was still somewhat anchored here.

Finally, he clears his throat. "So, nephew, how was your day?"

I pull myself back into the room, sitting my mind down on the bed beside me. I heave a sigh, smoke billowing from my mouth. "Rather exhausting, really."

He pops an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

I shrug, my shoulders shifting up and down across the mattress. "Well, let's just say that grammar is a bit of a bi-" I bit down on the word, press on. "A _pain_, it's a bit of a _pain._"

He contemplates a patch of his beard for a moment before speaking. How do I know this, considering I've yet to look at him? I've shared a cabin with the man for going on five years. I know far more about him than I ever cared to.

"You know, Zuko, I vividly remember expressing similar sentiments, back in your youth."

I chuckle. "What, I'm not still in my youth?"

He ponders that for a moment. "Depends on how one defines _youth_, I suppose. Still, I take it that the Lady Katara's lessons are going well?"

I smile, hoping he can't see, knowing that he can, and not really caring all that much, I suppose. "They're going very well. She's a natural. It's still hard work, but she's a hard worker, and with the passion and drive she brings to it…" I sigh, shake my head. "She could almost be Fire Nation."

"Ah," he says, raising a finger, "but she's Water Tribe."

I finally turn to him, rolling my head to the side, fixing my good eye upon him. "Well, yeah, but weren't _you_ the one who told me that the differences between the nations are not as firm and set as some would have us believe?" I turn back to the ceiling, still smiling. It's always fun to toss his words back at him, for both of us. "I believe I remember a long, rambling metaphor, about how some trees are like bushes but are still trees, while some bushes are like trees but are still bushes, or something along those lines."

He chuckles, a throaty rumble deep in his chest. "That _does_ sound like something I would say. Did it make any sense?"

I scoff. "At the time? Not a fu-_freaking_ word. Now, though? Well…I guess I kind of see what you were driving at."

He beams. "I'm happy to see that I was able to lead you down the path to enlightenment."

I roll my eyes. "And I'm happy to give you another reason to pat yourself on the back."

"You're doing that a lot these days."

"Hush, uncle." We both puff away in contented silence for a few moments, watching the smoke twist and curl through the air, up and out the open port. Finally, I think of something vaguely valuable to say. "So, any news from that ship that stopped by this morning?"

He sighs, his contentment seeming to just kind of fade away. "Yes, I'm afraid so, and I'm not sure any of it was good."

I roll my gaze back to him, brow furrowed. "How do you mean?"

He makes a face, as if he'd just bitten into something particularly unpleasant (_probably a raw sea prune, but the look of it)_. He seems to chew on his words for a bit, as if hesitant to disturb my good mood, then finally reaches a decision. "The ship was from the southern parts of the Earth Kingdom, so their information was neither fresh nor solid, but it appears that the Northern Water Tribes have come to terms."

I blink, taking that in. I reach my hand over, smoothing the cigarette in the ashtray on my nightstand, before heaving myself into a seated position, legs dangling off the side of the bed. I run my hands through my hair, trying to wrap my mind around the information, before I finally say, "Was that all they said?"

He shrugs. "More or less. They didn't know much, because it seems no one involved is willing to make the exact proceedings widely known, but the point is that it's a huge blow to those who oppose your father." His frown grows darker, the lines in his face growing clearer in the faint light of the cabin's flicking lamp. "I'd discount the information, if it didn't fit with other things we've heard."

I nod, very slowly, processing everything I've just heard. It's a simple piece of news, but major, and it would explain much. Over the past few months, Fire Nation ships have grown more and more common in the seas, as if they were no longer needed somewhere else. With our own eyes, we had seen the evidence of more troops being deployed to the Earth Kingdom, and there had been a strengthening impression that the faction at court in Ba Sing Se that favored peace at any price, even surrender, had been growing in size and boldness. I stifle a shudder, doing my best to not imagine whatever act or threat had finally brought the proud North to heel.

"Well," I finally say, reaching up and tapping a finger or two on my scar, "if it's true, that would change…well…_everything_."

He nods, his face grave. "It would indeed. It would mean that Earth Kingdom stands more or less alone, and I can't help but feel that it simply doesn't have the unity needed to stand firm."

"Yeah…and let's not forget, their leadership isn't much to speak of."

"Indeed. Emperor Kuei is not a man suited for times of crisis."

I look up, arching an eyebrow. "You met him once, didn't you?"

He nods. "I did, when I was besieging Ba Sing Se. My impression was of a bookish sort of young man, more suited for a classroom or a library than ruling an empire at war as much with itself as with an invader." He reaches up, begins to calmly stroke his beard. "He had good advisors then, though, and I never had the strength I needed to mount an effective siege. But now…I'm not so sure. Ba Sing Se might not be so lucky again."

"And if the Earth Kingdom falls…" I begin.

"…we will find it harder to find places to go," he finishes.

We let that thought hang in the air, thicker and heavier than all the chains on all the prisoners in all the world. It twists and slithers across the floor, snarling from dark corners and empty spaces, a beast howling in the dark. I can almost see the monster, growling and snarling, forever nipping at our heels. I resist the urge to look at it, to see it, because I know what I'll find, there in the darkest reaches of my mind, of my doubts.

_I don't care to confirm my father's face looking back at me, eyes full of disgust and hate…_

Once, I cringed in fear at the mere _whisper_ of such a thought. Now, though? _I'm just tired of the thing being there._

My uncle pats his belly, a smile returning to his face. "But enough of dark tidings and gloomy news. Let's talk about you!"

I sigh, reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Is that really necessary, uncle?"

He laughs. "Of course it is! It's always necessary! So," he continues, leaning forward, a look eerily reminiscent of a wolf that's just caught the scent of fresh prey, "how _is_ the Lady Katara, outside of her lessons?"

I roll my eyes, reach over for my cigarettes, extracting one and bringing it to my mouth. As I light it, I say, "Uncle, considering what you just told me, is now really the time to discuss such things?"

He leans back, his face turning grave. "Now is _always_ the time to discuss such things, Zuko."

I attempt to wave the idea away. "Yeah, but-"

_"Zuko."_

I look up, to find that he's fixed me with his eyes. His gaze is strong and fierce, but full of kindness and compassion, a hard warmth that never fails to pierce me to my core. He doesn't wait for me to reply, merely presses on.

"If the news that I just told you is, indeed, true, then it's quite possible that the war might finally be turning in my brother's favor. If that's the case, then it's only a matter of time until the entire world recognizes the Fire Nation's supremacy. The life we've lived, as pleasant as it has become, will no longer be possible. Unless you wish to resume your hunt for the Avatar, or go groveling back to your father's feet, then we need to start thinking of something else." He pauses, closes his eyes. He takes a long, deep breath, lets it out in a low, heavy sigh, opens his eyes, and speaks with emphasis and gravity. _"We need to start thinking of the future, Zuko._ _You_ need to start thinking of the future." His speech done, his face brightens once more, and the nosy little schoolboy is back to play. "And, if I'm not being too bold, this old man would like to imagine that, perhaps, the Lady Katara could have something to do with that future."

I lean back, roll my eyes, crossing my arms and letting my cigarette bob up and down with my words.

"Uncle, three weeks of reading and writing lessons and one date-"

His eyes light up. "Ah! So it's a _date_ now!"

"I never denied it, uncle."

He wags a finger. "Ah, but you never _confirmed_ it, either." He waves the matter aside. "But no matter. You were saying?"

I try not to huff like an angry child. "Well, I was merely going to point out that a mutual crush and one date are hardly grounds for planning weddings and picking out baby names."

He chuckles. "I would beg to differ."

I roll my eyes, which is, I have to admit, my most common action when speaking to my uncle. _"You would._" I pause, reach up to rub the back of my neck. As much as I hate to admit it, and as much as I think that, as usual, he's being hasty with my personal life, the man has a point. I always knew this life of mine could not go on forever, even when I began to accept it and nurture a hope that, somehow, it would. Just like the war, it would have to end someday, one way or another, and on that day, I would face a choice as to what to do next. My uncle watches me eagerly, face happy and sublime, full of expectant joy. The sight of it causes a brief flare of irritation to race through my body, made no less powerful for the knowledge that he only acts this way because he cares about me. Finally, I reach for my cigarette, holding it before my eyes. I contemplate the burning ember, analysis the smoke wafting from the tip, breath deep the smell of sizzling tobacco. _Maybe he has a point…_

"Well," I finally say, sticking the cigarette back in my mouth, "I was thinking…"

He arches an eyebrow. "You were?"

I give him a brief glare. "I do think from time-to-time."

He scoffs. "I know that. Entirely too much, in my humble opinion."

_Grr._ "Uncle, your opinion is _never_ humble, or even really an opinion."

He presses his hand to his chest, face full of mock offense. "Nephew, _you wound me_."

I scoff. "Whatever. Point is, yeah, I have been thinking…mostly about the crew, and what we should do next."

He nods, slow, eyes sparkling. "And what did you decide?"

I shoot him a look. "Well, I didn't _decide_ anything. We'll have to talk it over with the crew. But…I was thinking that we'd stay for another week, load up on furs and pelts and trinkets and things like that, like we did the last few times we came here, take them to Omashu, we always get a good price there."

He nods, once more stroking his beard. "We do, we do. Plus, we can finally get some solid information."

I point. "_Exactly._ Then, we spend a month or two trawling the coast, doing some trading, make some money, pick up the kind of goods that go over well down here, then…come back."

He continues nodding, continues running his fingers through that glorious beard of his. "And then what?"

I try not to smile, try not grin, try _desperately_ not to act the part he expects me to play and that I kind of, if I'm being completely honest, _want_ to play. "Well, I was thinking that, at the very least, you and I can stay, and send the crew and the ship back home."

The edges of his mouth twitch, but other than that, he remains calm and impassive. "An excellent plan, Zuko. And what, pray tell, will _we_ be doing?"

I shrug, lean back against the wall. "Laying low, mostly. No reason to draw my father's attention if we don't have to, and if the war really is winding down, then I doubt he'll feel inclined to pay much attention to the South. There's not much here that would interest him, especially if they come to terms."

He chuckles. "Alright, that covers what _I _will be doing. What about you?"

I look away, focusing on everything but my uncle's glittering eyes. "Well, Katara's making great progress, but she still has a long way to go. Plus, the other day, she made Sokka promise to teach me how to hunt and fish and things like that. So…you know…I'll be doing…_stuff._"

He emits a sound that only be called a _giggle._ "Ah…_stuff_, eh?"

I roll my eyes. _"Uncle…"_

He throws up his hands. "I'm just repeating what you said, my dear nephew."

"Yeah, but not really. You…_added stuff."_

"Well, _stuff_ does appear to be the word of the evening."

I press my hand to my face. "Oh, for gods' sake, uncle…"

"Indeed, perhaps we should make it our new watchword…"

Irritation bubbles from within, mixing with an equal measure of enjoyment. My uncle has a strange habit of calling for such conflicting emotions. As it is, all I can do is shake my head, close my eyes, and let my uncle follow his thoughts down the rabbit hole.

"Yes, indeed, that would be good. But before we do that, we would have to define what, exactly, stuff _is._ It's a very loose concept, especially in the way we're currently using it. I mean, the philosophical aspects are absolutely _limitless_ right now…"

It's a long time before he runs out of steam.

* * *

Have I mentioned that I like Iroh? Because I do. The most depressing thing about _A Different Path_ (well, _one _of them, anyways) was that it didn't have enough Iroh. I'm doing my best to rectify that here.

Also, hey, look, the war! And the promise of a scenery change! See, this story isn't going to be _entirely_ Zuko and Katara being fluffy and Iroh making short work of his nephew's dignity. There'll be serious shit, too!

If you're curious as to what happened at the North, basically I just imagined what would've happened if Zhao's massive fleet had shown up, or the Fire Nation had just launched a concerted campaign, and the Avatar wasn't there to rally resistance. Indeed, the worst thing about Aang not being present is that the world is lacking what he would've represented, a hope for the future. Without that hope, it's easy for me to believe that the North, which always seemed rather ambivalent towards the war in general, would decide to come to terms. That, in turn, has the potential to set off a kind of domino effect, which I'll get more into as the story progresses.

In the next chapter, Zuko teaches Katara to make sushi, and Sokka asks a favor. Stay tuned!


	11. Chapter 11

11. A FEW DAYS LATER, KATARA AND I ARE KNOCKING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN WHEN SOKKA COMES STROLLING IN, A SERIOUS EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE. This serious expression is quickly replaced by one of amused fascination as he watches me carefully mix and prepare rice while Katara carefully dresses and slices a few fish. He observes for a few moments, scratching absently at his chin, before he finally says, "Mind if I ask what you two are doing?"

I don't bother to look up at him, focused on beginning the process of laying out the rice, pressing handfuls of it into oblong mounds which I then lay on a long, rectangular plate that I brought with me from the ship. "Making _sushi_, of course."

He blinks, nods, and gives a great amount of consideration to this information. "Naturally. What else could you possibly be doing? I mean, really, that explains everything." He turns his attention to his sister, who is beginning to lay the cuts of fish very carefully into a deep wooden bowl. "Care to translate?"

She pauses just long enough to blow some stray hair out of her face before making a reply. "This Fire Nation dish that's pretty delicious. Zuko's showing me how to make it."

He nods some more, looking no more enlightened. "Why, of course he is. I'm still a little lost, though."

She sighs, shaking her head at her work. "Basically, it's raw fish on beds of rice, tied up in seaweed strips. You dip it in this kind of spicy sauce, and eat it, and, well, it's good." She tilts her head back at me. "Zuko's crew was eating it for dinner last night, and I was there because I felt like walking him back to his ship, and it looked interesting, so I tried some, and like I said, it was really good."

"That's not what you said after the first bite," I comment, eyes still focused on my own task.

She laughs. "No, that's true. It takes some getting used to, but by the third piece, I was in love."

Sokka is still nodding, still completely lost. "So, you're making Zuko teach you how to make it?"

She shrugs, an intent expression on her face. "Pretty much."

"Uh huh." He turns to me, an eyebrow popped over one eye. "So, you know how to cook?"

I make a bit of a face. "Kind of? Just simple stuff, really. There were servants to do all the cooking when I was growing up, so everything I've learned, I learned on the ship. Nothing complicated, but enough to slap together a meal in a time of need."

"Right on." He allows some thoughts to roll around in his head for a moment or two. "Am I going to have to eat it? Because, I'm not going to lie, it sounds kind of awful."

"So does sea prune stew," I point out, "and yet, what did I find myself eating for lunch yesterday?"

Katara turns around, a concerned look on her face. "You didn't like it?"

I turn to face her, putting on my best smile. "It was lovely, Katara. Didn't I finish the whole bowl?" I turn back to the rice. "I'm just saying that when you first hear it described, it kind of makes you blink a few times." I chuckle. "And it's _definitely_ an acquired taste, especially when your primary experience of it is when some random old lady shoves a bowl of it into your hands and glares at you until you eat it."

Sokka laughs. "Let me guess…kind of batty-looking, bent over, kind of looks like a witch out of a fairy tale?"

"Heh…yeah, that was the lady."

Sokka makes a face. "Yeah, that's Akna. She's pretty much, like, the oldest, craziest person in the entire tribe."

"And," Katara adds, laying out the last cut of fish and moving her hands over to a bucket of water, "let's face it, she makes the worst sea prune stew south of Omashu. Hey, Zuko?"

Without another word, I reach over and stick my hand in the water, heating it up with a few seconds, after which Katara grabs a bar of soap and washes her hands. From the doorway, Sokka gives and appreciative whistle and says, "You know, I gotta say, that is a rather handy little trick there." Being Sokka, he takes a moment to chuckle at his wit, while Katara and I both roll our eyes at him.

When she's down washing her hands, she bends the moisture off and brings the bowl of fish cuts over to where I'm just finishing with the rice mounds. "It really is," she says as she sets the bowl down. She throws me a wink which I return as she continues. "Say what you will, but firebenders have all _kinds_ of uses." We both take a moment to swallow our laughter while Sokka shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

"Well," he says, "I suppose we should just have him around more often, then."

Katara turns to him, eyes bright. "That's just what I was thinking!"

He pinches his nose. "He's been here, like, all day, every day, for almost a whole _month_."

Katara giggles. "Like I said, we should have him here more!" She strolls over to him, pops up, and gives him a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad you agree, my wonderful big brother. In fact," she pauses, tapping a finger to her chin, "we should just have him stay in the guest room when he comes back from this next trip." She grins, flashing the most transparently innocent eyes I've ever seen. "What a wonderful idea, Sokka! I'm glad you thought of it! You're the best!" She pecks him on the other cheek, then strolls over to where I'd laid out a few sheets of _nori_.

Meanwhile, her _wonderful big brother_ is gaping in confusion, looking remarkably like a fish flopping around on a beach. "But…I…_that's not what I…_uh…" He tries a few more times, before finally throwing his hands in the air. "Whatever, like it matters." He shakes his head a few times, as if to rid it of disturbing thoughts, before turning to me. "Also, speaking of your next trip, Zuko, that's why I'm here."

Katara has laid the sheets of _nori _beside where I've arranged the rice mounds and the cuts of fish. I take out a thin knife, and begin cutting a few strips from the _nori_, narrating the process. "You see, for the kind of _sushi_ we're making, you want strips about as wide as the tip of your finger. Make a clean, single cut, until you've used the whole sheet." I set Katara to work on that, and turn around to face Sokka. "Sorry, you were saying?"

He sighs. "I was just going to ask you something about this next trip."

"Ah, right." I snatch a towel that I have draped over my shoulder and begin wiping off my hands. "What about it?"

"Right…" The serious expression is back on his face. I get a sense of growing unease emanating off of him. He looks a little lost for words, and his eyes keep darting back-and-forth between his sister and my feet. His eyes do that a few times, before they suddenly hone in on my feet and his eyebrows narrow move in towards each other. "Hey, Zuko?"

"Yeah?"

"Why aren't you wearing any shoes?"

I look down. To my surprise, I'm not. I really didn't even remember taking them off, which, I suppose, is normal. I look back up and shrug. "Oh, I took them off by the door."

Katara looks up from her labors just long enough to say, "He always does that, Sokka. You never noticed?"

He shakes his head, still confused. "Umm…I guess not? Mind if I ask why?"

I shrug. "No reason. In the Fire Nation, we think it's rude and bad luck to wear outside shoes inside someone's home, so, we just always take them off when we come inside." I look down, wiggle my stocking-covered toes. "Normally, we have special house shoes to wear around inside, but I guess I left my pair under my bed back home." I look back up, snap my fingers. "Man, I _knew_ was forgetting something. All these years, and I thought I'd just left the candle by my bed lit."

Katara giggles, while Sokka just kind of…well…_stares._ I don't blame him. I'm well versed in sarcasm _(how could I not be, after going on five years of non-stop travel with my uncle)_, but it never seems to _fit_ quite right on me. People who don't know me terribly well often seem to be a little thrown off when I toss a line like that out.

However, the shock does seem to serve the purpose of helping get Sokka to his point, about which I am deeply curious. "_Right…_well, umm…what I was trying to ask was, where all were you planning on going again?"

I ponder that for a moment, conjuring a mental map and laying it out before my eyes. "Well…first, we're heading to Omashu, to off-load the trade goods you guys have been loading on the ship, then we're going to putter around for a bit along the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom, getting some last-minute trade in before the autumn storms."

He nods. "Right, I got that. And then, in about two months or so, you're coming back here, right?"

"Yup, unless you guys changed your mind about that."

Katara turns around, eyebrow raised. "Why would we do that?"

I shrug, giving her a smile. "Just covering my bases."

She sticks her tongue out at me before turning to her brother. "You alright, Sokka?"

He tries to give a confidant nod, but it's not very convincing. He looks no less troubled than he did at the start of this conversation, troubled and befuddled and…and…_embarrassed? _I shake my head. _That can't be right. Guys like Sokka don't get __**embarrassed.**_

"Yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm fine, I really am, it's just…well…" He gives himself a shake, crosses his arms over his chest, plants his feet firmly in the ground, and does his best to look me right in the eye. _The unease is still there, though._ "I was just…I was wondering if I could ask you a favor." He raises his hands, spreading his fingers wide. "Now, it's okay if you refuse, really, it is, I won't get mad. It's a…it's a rather _big_ favor to ask, and if it messes with your schedule or whatever, I understand, but, if you'd at least _think _about it, I'd love you forever, I really would, I'd be eternally grateful, and-"

I cut him off with a gesture. "Hey, dude, it's cool, trust me. Just ask, and I'll do my best to get it done."

He chuckles. "That's because you haven't heard it yet."

"Let me guess," Katara says, putting down the knife and turning to face us. "You want to ask Zuko to try to get a message to Dad."

Sokka's mouth drops open, and he takes a few moments to stare and gape, before he coughs into his hand and clears his throat. "Well…umm…if Zuko thinks it can be done…"

Katara crosses her arms, a glare forming with alarming speed on her face. "Sokka, I just…how could you ask that? What, with everything Zuko already does for us, and everything he's going to be doing over the winter, you want to ask him to go sauntering off over a _warzone_?"

Up until now, the only picture of Sokka that I've been privy to is of a guy so full of confidence that it's kind of grotesque, especially to someone like me, who possesses, well…_pretty much the exact opposite. _By his own description, he is _The Meat and Sarcasm Guy_, and he fulfills his self-appointed role with gusto. And yet, standing there in that kitchen, I see entirely different view of Sokka, and entirely new _person_, really, as he literally _wilts_ under his sister's gaze, stammering and spluttering like…well…_me_.

"Well…umm…I just wanted to ask if he thought he could do it…and…well…like I said, if he doesn't think he can, then it's alright, it really is, I just wanted to ask…"

Katara takes a step forward, her hand raising and forming into a fist, one finger extended. "Yeah, but that's the thing, you can't just _ask_ something like that, of _anyone_, and _especially_ not Zuko." She gives a huff, her finger beginning to wag. "Especially considering that-"

"Katara?"

She stops, turns to me, her face instantly shifting from what I can only call a _Death Glare_ into the smile that I still just can't get enough of. "Yes, Zuko?"

I smile back at her. It always seems to give her a little bit of a jolt. It's hard to catch, but every once in a while, I see it, and it never ceases to amaze me and make me feel all warm and fluffy inside.

"There's no reason to get on your brother's case."

She sighs. "There's _always_ a reason to get on my brother's case."

"Hey! I'm right here!"

"Shush, Sokka." She tilts her head, looks deep into my eyes, surprise slowly spilling across her face. "Wait…you're not going to actually say _yes_, are you?"

I shrug, throwing everything I have into that smile. "Well…_yeah_. Why wouldn't I? My crew really doesn't need me when they're doing a trade voyage. In fact, all I tend to do is get in the way, because I have to be careful about where I show my face, especially if there's other Fire Nation around. So," I continue, doing my best to sound as nonchalant as possible, "why not spend those two months or so doing something…well…_productive?"_

I really don't know who's more surprised by this turn of events, them or me. I'm fighting hard against the urge to blush, while Sokka can only stare, wide-eyed and confused. Katara, though…

_Katara just gives me this look…_

_ And suddenly, a trip across a warzone doesn't sound so crazy anymore…_

When she finally recovers herself, her eyes are wide, but her voice is small, small and soft and not too much more than a whisper. "You'd…_you'd do that?"_

I try on what I'm pretty sure is something _fairly_ close to a _jaunty pose_, the kind I've seen my uncle throw on at the drop of a hat, and that I'm fairly certain looks utterly _ridiculous_, though, somehow, no one seems inclined to comment on it. "Not only _would_ I do that, but I'm _going to_ do that."

There's a pause, a beat, a lull in the action. Time stops, and the world goes very calm, and very quiet. A dropped pin would've sounded like the end of the world just then, and I have this strange feeling that I've reached one of those _moments_, one of this _big deals_, one of those _instants_ that you look back on years down the road and nod and say, _Yes, at that particular point in time, my entire life changed. From then on, there was no going back._

I don't have very long to think about this, though, because, before anyone _(even her, I suspect) _has a time to really think about what's happening, Katara has shouted with joy and hurled herself into my arms and then her arms are sliding around my neck and she's popping up on her toes and…well…um…you see…the thing is…

_She kisses me._

It's over in an instant, so quick that, for a moment, I doubt that it actually happened. I'm seriously wondering if it was all in my head, until I look down and see that Katara is not an inch or two from me and her hands are over her face and her face is bright red from hair to chin. I tear my eyes away from her, and am treated to the sight of Sokka's chin coming very close to making contact with the floor. The sight is so captivating that it is only with great difficulty that I shift my attention back to Katara, who has moved back by a few very small steps and is messing with her hair and running her hands along her clothes and smoothing some wrinkles from her skirt. Almost in unison, we all take a moment to cough into our hands and avoid each other's gazes as we collect ourselves. By mutual agreement, without a word being said, we seem to come to the conclusion to, at least for the moment, pretend that what just happened, well, _didn't happen._

"So," I say, clearing my throat one last time, "was there anything in particular you wanted me to say to your father when I find him?"

Katara smiles, her face still the color of the sun at dawn. "Shouldn't it be more _if_ you find him?"

I shrug with more confidence than I feel. "Well, it's a big country, but it's not _that_ big. It's not terribly difficult to find an army, especially one dressed in blue and full of hairy Sokka-clones." It's true, and to be honest, I'm fairly certain that, if nothing else, I'll be able to find out where their father is campaigning and, most importantly, if he's still alive or not. Still, though, confidence and I have never been the best of friends; when I show it, it's largely just an act, even when it's justified.

_Heh…__**especially**__ when it's justified…_

"You know," Katara says, biting her lip and playing with the ends of her hair, "you really should show more confidence. It's…it's nice."

I chuckle. "Really? I'll have to keep that in mind."

"Actually," Sokka says, cutting into our moment with his usual expert timing, "I was wondering if you could…well…write a letter for me. Our uncle Bato can read, and wherever our Dad is, he'll be close by."

I nod. "Yeah, I could do that…" I turn to Katara, flashing her a winning smile. "But, then again, why don't _you_ write it?"

Her face lights up, the blush finally banished into a corner of my mind, where I'll carry it with me until I see her again. "You really think I can do that?"

I reach down, take her hands. "I _know_ you can do it."

She bounces up and down for a moment, the excitement shining from her eyes literally impossible to describe. She squeezes my hand, lets go of one, and uses the other to pull me over to our almost-finished _sushi._ "Well, then this is perfect, really. We can finish the _sushi_, and then, while we're eating, Sokka and I can write the letter."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "_Great._ More time this month spent listening to my sister show off."

"What can I say?" I point out. "She has a lot to show off. She's a natural, really."

He shakes his head. "Suck up."

Katara shoots him a glare. "And for that little comment, you can try two bites of _sushi_."

His face falls, and for a moment, I have an image of an entirely _new_ Sokka, that being _Five-Year-Old Sokka_, complete with a foot stomp and a plaintive whine. _"But KA-TAR-A!"_

She shakes her head. "If Zuko can go running off the Earth Kingdom, looking for Dad, then you can try some of his cooking, and that's the end of it." She turns back to me, waves at the neatly arranged components before us, and says, "So, where were we?"

I stifle a laugh and say, "Well, the next step is actually the easiest. You see…"

And before anyone asks, yes, the first thing I did when I went back to the ship was call my uncle and ship's officers together and inform them of the change of plans, and because the gods have a strange sense of humor, they all immediately agreed, and before I knew it, my solo adventure had turned into a bonding trip with my uncle. That night, laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to my uncle jabber away, all I could do was thinking of the amusement I had derived from the sight of Sokka being put in place by his sister and think, _Yeah, serves me right…_

* * *

Hey, look! Plot! It was about time that it showed up!

Also, the promise of a scenery change! For the record, we should be heading off for the Earth Kingdom and Zuko's little errand around chapter…oh…15 or so. But enough of that. We have fluff to enjoy!

And yes, before you ask, I did research on sushi preparation, because I need help.

In the next chapter, Zuko gets dragged into what is (to his eyes, at least) a delightfully barbaric game, and enjoys himself immensely, even as he makes a complete fool of himself. Stay tuned!


	12. Chapter 12

12. THAT FRIDAY IS THE FINAL DAY OF LESSONS FOR KATARA AND I BEFORE I DEPART THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY. I had finally unearthed that book in Suomi that I had spent so many hours of frustration tearing my ship apart looking for, and as a kind of _major exam_, I sit down with Katara at the spot where we finally met and read it together. The progress she has made in the past month of admittedly intensive lessons is, quite frankly, _stunning_. Sure, she's still at a beginner's level, and her reading is halting, slow, and it takes upwards of a half-hour to get through a page, but considering that, not a month before, she was functionally illiterate, it's still amazing to behold. Even after a month, I can't stop myself from being impressed. She never needs to be told how to say the same word more than once and, if it's difficult, twice, and she's mastered the alphabet with alarming speed. She still hates sentences and struggles with grammar, but then again, who doesn't? I've been reading since birth, practically, and even I have issues with that. The point is, it's just _wonderful_ to see, and it's really hard to not let the pride I feel go to my head.

So into the process are we, in fact, that we're at least two hours in before the snickering of a passing gaggle of teenage girls makes us aware of just how close we're sitting to each other. We pause, take a moment to process the situation, and then, without another word, don't move an inch.

However, the moment cannot last, because, to my regret, I had, in a fit of madness, accepted an invitation from Sokka to join him and the other boys of the village in a game they called _haavipallo_. It's a fairly simple game, one I figured out fairly quickly from a few idle afternoons spent watching Water Tribesmen play it. Basically, you have this long stick, at the end of which is a little basket. Using this basket, you try to get a ball across the field into the goal of the other team, who will do their best to stop you. The hardest part seems to be moving the ball from player to player without it dropping, flying off, or getting stolen by the other team. It's a rough sport, played with much cursing and shouting and not even an _attempt_ at anything resembling _safety_. From what I've seen, bruises and cuts and scrapes are practically _sought after_, and broken bones and concussions are far from uncommon. Indeed, a _haavipallo _that _doesn't_ at some point involve a fist-fight is considered by all to be a dull affair.

In short, it is a _delightfully_ barbaric sport, and, when Sokka extended an invitation for me to come join in a game that Friday afternoon, I immediately accepted, with a smile on my face and not a moment's hesitation. Naturally, I quickly thought better of it, but then I looked to Katara and realized that, seeing as even _I _had to admit that I was basically courting the guy's sister, there was, quite literally, _no way out_. So, when the time for the game came that Friday, I sighed and let Katara thread her arm through mine and lead me across the village to the game field, feeling a lot like a man being led to his execution.

And yes, of _course_ I was excited. Who wouldn't be? I was just fairly certain that I was going to make a complete ass of myself in the process. And boy, did I ever.

Katara dropped me off at the playing field, leaving me with a peck on the cheek and the rather ominous-sounding words, _"Be careful, please."_ At that point, Sokka had already grabbed me and was dragging me off to my doom. I did nothing to hide my fear and sense of betrayal, and as I was taken away, I shouted, "Any chance I can convince you to take my place?"

Katara just laughed and said, "What, and play this insane game? _Please._" She pointed off to the sidelines, where my uncle and most of my crew were already arranging themselves in the grass, passing a wineskin back and forth and just in general looking like a bunch of old ladies heading to the local fair. "Besides, your uncle has already asked me to watch with him, and I can't keep him waiting, now, can I?" With a bow of my head, I accepted my doom, and stopped trying to resist Sokka.

A few minutes later, I was standing in a loose knot of about thirty players, most boys of sixteen or seventeen, with a sprinkling of older men like Sokka and I. As soon as I joined the group, they all took turns trying to cheer me up with thumps on the back and jokes and taunts. As I watched, everyone began to strip down, an example I followed, until all of us were standing there in the afternoon sun, wearing nothing but our loincloths. As I stripped off my shirt, I took a moment to look over to where Katara and my uncle were sitting, and was rewarded with the sight of Katara's eyes going wide as she quickly turned her face to my uncle, a coy smile on her face and a red tint in her skin. I chuckled to myself, doing my best to savor what I couldn't help but feel would be my last moment of pride and dignity of the day.

Sokka quickly shattered the moment, shoving one of the game sticks into my hands. I hefted the stick, felt its weight, ran my hands up and down the rough wood. The sticks, I noticed, were rather intricately carved, with what I assumed to be various pleas for the favors of the gods, though, knowing my luck, I'd gotten the one stick that some wit had felt the need to etch curses into. I looked from the stick up to Sokka, who was smiling like a kid on his name-day, and said, doing nothing to hide the fear in my voice, "So, anything I need to know?"

He considered my question for what I felt was far too long of a time, before he nodded and said, "Yeah: _Don't get killed._"

I tried not to gulp, I really did. "Wait…is that a risk?"

He shrugs, waving his stick through the air. "Well, I mean, it's _rare_, but it's been known to happen."

I chuckle, more for show than anything else. "Right…well, thanks for the reassurance."

He thumps a light fist into my chest. "Don't mention it. Oh! And one more thing."

My eyes flew wide. "There's _more?_"

He laughs, loud and happy. "Yeah! Just…be forewarned: Everyone's going to be gunning for you."

I point to myself. _"Gunning for __**me?!**_ Why?"

"Well," he says, still smiling like a loon, and convincing me with every passing moment of his insanity, "for one thing, you're new, and the new guys always get thumped a little extra. For another, my sister digs you, so there're a couple guys here who might have some frustration to work out over that."

I grunt. "How quaint. It's like a cheap romance play."

"Pretty much. Oh! And, let's face it, you're Fire Nation. So, you know, there's _that._"

I frown. "I thought people here liked me?"

He shakes his head, still smiling, still laughing. "They do! It's just, you know, when will they ever get the chance to meet someone who's both Fire Nation and will actually _let_ them beat him up, and in a way that won't have my sister freezing them to their beds? It's really an opportunity that they'd be fools to pass up."

I nod, slowly and carefully, breathing deep of my last few moments on this earth. "I can see how they'd come to that conclusion." I turn back to him, trying to mimic his smile. "You know I'm going to, like, completely suck at this, right?"

He bursts into a fit of hysterics. "Oh, I know! But don't worry: No one's really good at this game. Just try not to break anything, and we can both go back to bed feeling safe."

I grimace. "Right…" There seems to be nothing more to be said, so I content myself with looking up at the sun, offering the most heartfelt prayer to the gods that I'd ever uttered up to that point, and taking my position as the teams (such as they are) square off. After that, there's a brief moment of silence, the village shaman offers a quick prayer to the gods, and then, without any warning or preamble, the ball is tossed into the air and the game is on. The ball arced through the air, and I prayed with all my might that it wouldn't land. But land it did, and I said goodbye to whatever pride I had left for about a good, solid hour.

At least, I _think_ it all lasts an hour. I really can't be sure. The game that unfolds around me is less _organized sporting event_ and more _absolute fucking chaos_. Everyone's dressed exactly the same, and to my eyes, at least, most look pretty similar, with the result that any concept of _team_ that I might be familiar with is obviously not in play. After a few minutes of running around confused, I just latch on to Sokka and head in whatever direction he's going. From time-to-time, the game seems to consist entirely of all thirty-some-odd players smashed into a huge tangle, swinging their sticks wildly and shouting and shoving and cursing over a ball whose location no one seems to either be aware of or care about. If someone's keeping score, no one tells me, and I begin to doubt that there even _is_ a score.

And Sokka wasn't kidding about everyone gunning for me. Before too long, I am covered in bumps and bruises and scrapes. I spend as much time on my ass as I do on my feet. My breath comes in ragged wheezes, and I'm covered in sweat. My head pounds, and my heart beats so wildly I have a few moments where I fear that it's going to burst from my chest. The world is a wild, spinning, tangled mass of screaming and laughing and cheering. Everything seems to be happening in flashes. One moment, I'm at one end of the field, then, I blink, and I'm at the other. One moment, I'm running like the wind, enjoying one of my few instants with the ball, and then, next thing I know, I'm on the ground, tumbling, and then, just as suddenly, I'm madly chasing the guy who tackled me and stole the ball. _And how did we end up in a dog pile? Weren't we just spread out over the field? When did that happen? Wait, __**how'd I get the ball again?! GAH! THEY'RE COMING FOR ME AGAIN! RUN!**_

I really do make a complete ass out of myself. I spend most of the game with a confused expression on my face, looking, I imagine, a lot like a deer caught in torchlight. Before it's all over, I've amassed a collection on injuries, most of which I can't even _begin_ to figure out how I got them. I'm pretty sure I don't score a single goal, though I can't be sure, because I don't fully understand how one _scores_ a goal, and there was one part where I happened to run across some sort of imaginary line in the grass and everyone cheered and, to my surprise, I had possession of the ball, though honestly, I have no idea what happened, only that I felt good that everyone seemed to approve. And as for the ball, well, I get ahold of it, if I'm generous, about a dozen times, mostly by accident, and more than once, I didn't even know I had it, my first clue being one of the other players tackles me and takes it away. All I really remember doing is running around like a madman, trying to imitate Sokka, and just in general doing my best to _not die_.

And yet…somehow…I have an absolute _blast_. I really do. There's this stupid grin plastered on my face the entire time, even when I'd just been knocked to the ground or hit with a stick. I start to get into the rhythm of the game, such as there is, hitting and swatting and tackling and throwing random punches and kicks and head-butts. Oddly enough, the more I join in the dishing out of punishment, the less that is dished out to me. Even more oddly, this makes a strange sort of sense to me, in that moment, which I can't even begin to understand. The strangest thing, for me at least, is that, at some point, I just stop…well…_giving a shit._ It's like I blink, and suddenly realize that the point of the game is not to win, because this is a people that defines _victory_ a little differently than mine do. No, the point is to _have a good time_ and for everyone to enjoy themselves. Once I realize this, it all becomes a lot easier.

Heck, I get so much into the game, that, at one point, I even manage to get into a fight. Not that it was my fault, mind you, _oh no_, it was all Sokka's, because, see, the asshole _totally_ cheap-shot me, coming out of nowhere to knock me face-first to the ground and stand over me, laughing hysterically, while the game swirled on around us. I looked up, wiped some sweat from my brow, and said, "Hey, what was that for? I thought we were on the same team, asshole!"

He blinks in confusion, still smiling, and with a shock, I realize that I've gotten so excited and _in the zone_ that I've lapsed back in Nihongo. I shake my head, clear my thoughts as best I can, and repeat my statement in the right language. Without missing a beat, he throws his head back, laughs even _harder_, and says, "Hey, I had to pay you back somehow!"

I tilt my head, not quite understanding the grin on my face. "Pay me back for _what?_"

"Why, for making me eat that gods-awful fucking _sushi_, of course."

He bursts into a fresh round of chuckles, which I cut short by sweeping my legs into his knees, sending him crashing to the ground. I roll onto my feet, fists on my hips, feeling absurdly accomplished. "Well, then consider _that_ to be payment for tricking me into this stupid fucking game."

His face twists into an expression of mock offense, completely undermined by the ear-to-ear smile he's wearing. "_Stupid?!_ Why I oughta…"

He doesn't elaborate further, merely hurling himself off the ground and crashing himself into me. Next thing I know, we're both rolling around in the grass, cackling like lunatics and throwing punches and doing our best to, for lack of a better word, _show off_. Meanwhile, the game actually _stops_, and the other players all form a circle, chanting and cheering our names. That's the part the really throws me off, the fact that at least as many players seem to be rooting for _me_ as are rooting for Sokka.

Don't for a second, by the way, think that the fight was actually, well, _a fight_. It really wasn't. The punches we throw are weak and pathetic, and the wrestling moves we toss out are just that, _tossed out_ and _half-assed_. At no point do we stop laughing or smiling or even get angry, even as we hurl good-natured abuse at each other in our native languages. The other players seem to think that it's the best and most entertaining thing to happen all day, and no one makes a single move to stop us. God, even Katara gets in on the fun, at one point screaming from the sidelines, _"Kick his ass, Zuko!"_

That makes me pause for a moment, or, at least, makes Sokka pause, as he happens to be on top right then, his fist raised, while I have my hand on his throat and I'm getting ready to sock him one in the stomach. I look up at him and say, _"Sore wa watashi ga anata no o shiri o kikku suru nda to omowa remasu."_

Sokka blinks in confusion. "What now?"

I laugh. "Ah, my bad, just got into the moment. I said, _It seems that I'm to kick your ass."_

He chuckles, tilts his head towards the sidelines. "Well, my sister does have a way of getting what she wants."

I shrug. "And who am I to deny her?"

"Heh…yeah, but on the other hand, we can't let her win _all_ the time."

I arch an eyebrow. "So, you're saying that you actually get the last word in from time-to-time?"

He laughs. "Gods no! Are you kidding? But you should at least try to."

I give a rather expressive tilt of the head. "Meh…"

Just then, one of the other players leans into frame, a bored look on his face. "Hey, if you two don't mind, either get on with the fight or let us get back to the game." This is supported by a chorus of grunts and nods and mutters. Sokka and I, feeling out-voted, help each other up, hand each other our sticks, and take another moment to embrace, complete with manly back-slapping and assurances that _just you wait, next time, your ass is mine_. With that, someone ran off and found the ball again, and we went back to the thirty-man-fight that had been going on before.

So, yeah, in the end, I had more fun than I ever thought I would in such an activity. Sure, I was probably the worst player in the history of the game, and sure, I got in some pansy, half-assed fight with my…umm…_female friend's brother_, and sure, by the time it was all over, I could barely _walk_, but when my uncle asked me afterwards if I regretted taking part, all I could do was shake my head, smile, and say, "Nope, not one bit." I even got to discover one of the side benefits of…umm…_knowing_ a waterbender, when Katara pulled me aside in a secluded place and used her abilities to heal some of the worst injuries I had incurred, which is the only reason I was able to sleep that night. Still, as much as she obviously wanted to fix _everything_, she left the more visible injuries, like the bruise around my right eye and the busted bottom lip and slight limp I'd managed to pick up. She didn't even get mad when I asked her to leave a few injuries; she just rolled her eyes, muttered, _"Boys,"_ and then resumed trying not to blush while her hands were moving along my chest.

Which was good, because I was desperately trying to control other things, which should not be mentioned in polite conversation, so we're just going to move on.

That night, I was back in my cabin, smoking a leisurely cigarette, sore and aching and feeling pretty damn good about it, when my uncle came in for the night. Without a word, he opened up his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of fire whiskey of the most expensive variety, the last remnants of a box of six that he'd brought with him into exile. Along with the bottle came two glasses, which he wiped off and filled, handing one to me and taking the other for himself. With great care and effort, I pulled myself into a seated position, and we raised our glasses to each other.

"To you, nephew," he said, looking for all the world like the most contented cat in history, "for finally having some fun."

"I'll drink to that," I said, and we both clinked glasses and took sips. The whiskey really was good stuff, hot and smooth, burning all the way down my throat and into my stomach and exploding there in a burst of fire. I savored it for a moment, enjoying the taste on my tongue, before I raised my glass again. "I think we should make another toast."

He arched an eyebrow, nodded, and raised his glass. "To what, might I ask?"

"Heh…to my exile."

He tilted his head. "Oh? What about it?"

I half-smile tilted up into my good cheek. "I'm beginning to suspect that it might have been the best thing to ever happen to me."

He nods, slow and solemn. "Hear, hear, Zuko, hear, hear."

We clink glasses. We drink. It's hard to describe the look in my uncle's eyes, but somehow, I know, deep down inside, that it's something I've only ever seen from him.

_It's pride…_

* * *

Fun Fact: I kind of hate sports. Now, I'm not one of those assholes who's all, _Sports are dumb and you're dumb for watching them_, it's just that, well, I really have, like, no competitive spirit at all. Without that, sports just aren't that interesting, you know? You're just watching to two groups of people in whose success you have no stake slugging it out with each other. It's the same reason I suck at most board games. I just can't get worked up very much if the only purpose is to beat the shit out of the other person in some way.

Now, games I _can_ get into, are games played where no one cares if anyone wins. Like, a lazy chess game between two good friends, played until there are no more moves to make, and then starting over again, or a drunken card game, where the only goal is to out-stupid each other, or even the sloppy football games we used to play out on the practice field when I was in band. None of us were even _remotely_ athletic or sporty, and as for rules? _Please._ We just enjoyed running around, having a good time.

That's kind of where I see Zuko at this point. He used to have a competitive spirit, only not really. He was never really that kind of person, only acting like it. When we meet him in the story, he's finally really letting all of that go. Thus, he finds himself dragged into this crazy-ass game, and having a great time.

For those playing the home game, the game they're playing is basically a form of Native American stickball, which was the forerunner to lacrosse, the Finnish name of which is what I used as the name for the game, because I'm a dweeb.

In the next chapter, Zuko and Katara take their leave of each other, and there's some fluffy goodness. Stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

13. WHEN WE MADE OUR FINAL PREPARATIONS TO DEPART SUNDAY MORNING, I WON'T LIE, I HAD A BIT OF A HANGOVER. For that, I blame the tribe. Once Sokka opened his big mouth about how I was going to seek out his father and get a message to him, they all insisted on a big farewell party, to which my entire crew was invited and at which I was the guest of honor. I tried to decline, I really did. I don't like being the center of attention, never have, which is weird, considering I was born and raised to be a king. And yet…that's the way I am. The idea of spending an entire evening being praised and toasted made me cringe inside. Only my uncle's insistence and the fact that Katara had agreed to be my date allowed me to swallow my insecurities and agree to the ordeal.

It was a pretty simple affair. The Southern Water Tribes, unlike their Northern brethren or, really, anyone else in the world, don't go in for much _pomp and circumstance_. It was simply a _party_. Sure, it was a large one, with what felt like the entire village and all fifty-one members of my crew in attendance, but for all of that, it was charmingly…well…_plain_. Just a couple hundred people laughing and singing and dancing and eating and drinking. _Oh, the drinking._ The Southern Water Tribes have this…I don't even know how to describe it…this _liquor_, I guess, made from some appallingly barbaric process, which tastes like shoe polish and is about as deadly. I've always done my best to drink only one cup at a time, just enough to be polite, but that night, _enough to be polite_ morphed into _every single drink that's offered me_, which turns out to be quite a bit. It doesn't help that Katara proves herself a champ at drinking the stuff, challenging me every step of the way to keep pace. I try, I really do, but in the end, I'm drunk as a skunk and acting the fool.

I mean, how else to explain the fact that she got me out on what passed for a dance floor? Or that I danced the entire night away? Or that I joined my uncle in a stirring rendition of _The Hedgehog Song_, every single last verse, the filthier the better? Everyone else must've been just as shit-faced, too, because, even though the song was sung in Nihongo, everyone seemed to understand every word, and at some part, started drunkenly belting out the chorus with us.

At some point, after many rounds and many toasts, Katara and I found ourselves alone. That's when she took the opportunity to shove me against a wall and kiss me in way I'd never been kissed before. Or maybe I made her shove me against a wall and kissed _her_ in a way that her face said that she'd never been kissed before. I'm really not sure. _Maybe it was both?_ Point is, we both came away flushed and breathless, the promise of the future sparkling in our eyes.

So yeah, by the time the ship was ready to go, my head was pounding and my mouth was dry and I felt a bit like death warmed over. I was still a bit sore from the game on Friday, and my heart was heavy in a way it had never been my entire life. None of it seemed to matter, though, because there I was, standing just beyond the edge of the gangplank, across from the most beautiful woman I've ever known, our hands clasped before us.

"You know," I say, eyes locked into hers, "I have to say, I've never done this before."

She smiles. I still can't get over her smiles. They're the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep.

"Done what?" she asks.

"Heh…taken leave of a pretty girl."

She tilts her head, an amused expression on her face. "Really? So, you _don't_ have girls pining after you on the docks of every port in the Earth Kingdom?"

I chuckle at that. It's an entertaining image. Ridiculous, sure, but still entertaining. "Gods no. In fact…I've never really…well…umm…"

Her smile turns into a smirk. "What, never had a girlfriend before?"

"Heh…no, not really." I regard her, her words finally filtering into my brain. "So…wait…you're my girlfriend now?"

She giggles. "What, two successful dates, a month of spending nearly every moment together, and a rather intense kiss don't qualify as _dating_ in the Fire Nation?"

I ponder that for a moment. "You know, I'm actually not sure what constitutes _dating_ in my Homeland. To be honest, _dating_ wasn't really encouraged, in the environment I grew up in."

She frowns. "So, nobility don't get to have fun?"

I can't help but chuckle at that. "Not really, no. We do have arranged marriages, though."

A look of suspicion creeps into her face. "Wait…you're not married, are you?"

I laugh. "Gods, no. I was engaged, but, you know, being _banished_ has a tendency to put the brakes on such things. Which, to be honest, was a good thing. I didn't really like her all that much."

She gives me a searching look. "Kind of a bore?"

A memory of Mai, responding to one of my periodic attempts at telling a joke with the words, _Why, what an amusing anecdote_, flashes through my mind. "You know…that's actually a good way to put it." I shake the image away, refocus on her. "But, enough about me and my awkwardness and mysterious past. We need to talk about _you._"

She arches an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What about me?"

"Well…I need to assign you your homework."

She smiles. "_Homework_, eh?"

I nod. "Yup. Your homework is to finish reading the book I gave you, and to practice your spelling and your writing every day, and to take at least three moments a day to rub your brother's nose in the fact that you know something that he doesn't."

She nods slowly, pursing her lips, as if she's writing it all down in her head. I can't help but imagine how many of my old tutors would have _killed_ to have a student as diligent, hard-working, and committed as her. "Read the book, practice, irritate my brother." She looks up, a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Is it still homework if I was planning on doing all of that anyways?"

I tilt my head towards her. "It's better than homework then, actually. It's homework you'll _enjoy_, which is a rare thing in this world."

She laughs. "If you say so." Her smile turns into a frown, her eyes narrowing. "Is it okay if I don't fully understand what I'm reading, though?"

"Absolutely. When I get back, we'll work on comprehension and, if all goes well, I'll be able to get ahold of a dictionary, which will make things a lot easier."

She makes a face. "And I assume I can look forward to more of that _grammar shit_ then, too?"

I give her a compassionate look. "I'm afraid so, my dear."

She pouts. _"Blergh."_

I'm about to say something, but I'm cut off my uncle, leaning over the railing above us and shouting, "Ah, nephew, as much as I'm enjoying this – and trust me, I am – I'm afraid that the time has come for us to go."

I look up at him, nodding. "Don't worry, uncle, I'm on my way."

My uncle laughs, turns to Katara. "And don't worry, my lady, I'll bring him back to you in one piece."

Katara gives him a serious look, one full of both joy and menace in equal parts, an effect that, so far, I've only seen her accomplish. "See that you do, uncle."

My uncle responds to that by laughing even harder, giving her a bow before wandering off. Katara and I turn back to each other, whereupon she sees the smirk on my face and says, "What?"

"Heh…so, you're calling him _uncle_ now, too?"

She shrugs, looking slightly bashful. "Well, how can I not? He's just so…well…_uncle-like_. Plus, that's what he insists everyone call him."

I shake my head, still smirking. "Is that what he told you?"

"It is, it is!" She purses her lips in thought. "Why, is that not true?"

"Ha! No! He normally tells everyone to call him _Iroh_. You're the first person I've heard of that he ordered to call him _uncle_."

She giggles. "Well, I guess I'm special then."

I raise her hands to my lips, kiss her knuckles softly. "Yes, you are." I rub my thumbs gently over her knuckles. "I can honestly say I've never met anyone like you."

She shakes her head, smiling from ear-to-ear. "You and your lines, Zuko. What am I to do with you?"

I ponder for a few moments, putting on a show of giving the matter serious consideration, before I say, "I'm sure you'll think of something."

She winks. "You bet I will." At that, though, her face falls, her eyes turning serious and the glimmer fading away. She bites her lip, before stepping even closer to me. My head swims. The last time she was this close to me, it was night before, and the world was spinning around me as she pressed her lips to mine. It takes every ounce of a lifetime of having willpower and self-control beat into me to maintain my composure and not kiss her there and then, in front of all the gods and everybody.

"Listen," she says, voice soft and light as the summer breeze flowing in from the sea, "I meant what I said to your uncle, and that's why I'm saying it to you: _Please_ come back in one piece. I mean it. Don't do anything stupid, don't take an unnecessary risks, and if you don't find my father, or you do but something's happened to him, please, please, _please_, don't blame yourself."

I bow my head, voice solemn and grave. "I promise." I put on a cheerful, innocent smile. "Besides, me, do something _stupid?_ As if."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about."

I pop an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

She sighs. "Don't worry about it. Just get your ass back here, because I'd really like to find out where this is going."

I bow my head once more. "Me, too." With that, I lean down, and kiss her softly on the forehead. "See you in a couple months."

She smiles, pops up, and kisses my scar. "Not if I see you first."

I wink. "It's a date."

She winks back. "Damn straight." She squeezes my hands one more time, then lets them go, giving me a playful little shove. "Now, _go_, before you ship leaves without you."

I take a few steps back and, very formally, calling on every bit of _years_ of etiquette lessons, give her a perfect, proper, full bow, bending at a complete ninety-degree angle at the waist. "As my lady commands."

She rolls her eyes and giggles. "Oh, _you_. Go!"

I go. We watch each other, me from my ship, she from the shore, all the way until we both vanish from each other's sight.

* * *

See? Did I not promise fluffy goodness? And I delivered! In case you haven't noticed, this story is going to be all about the fluffy goodness. But, there's also a plot, and we hook back in with that in the next chapter.

For the record, Zuko still hasn't told Katara the full story of his past. In my mind, he tells people that he was high born, and that he was banished, and most people tend to assume that it had something to do with his scar. Katara, for her part, has decided that she likes him enough to let him tell her in his own time, because that's what you do with people you genuinely like: You let them be themselves.

Speaking of the next chapter, _in the next chapter_, Zuko and Company arrive in Omashu, and discover some very distressing things. Stay tuned!


	14. Chapter 14

14. THE SIGHT THAT GREETS US IN OMASHU IS THE EXACT LAST THING WE EITHER EXPECTED OR, FOR THAT MATTER, _WANTED_ TO SEE. We're not really surprised, per se. The days during which we spent approaching the city gave us more than enough distressing things to ponder. The seas were nearly empty, for one thing. Normally, they should have been filled to the brim with fishing boats and trading ships, Earth Kingdom warships slicing through the waves, both those of the Emperor and those flying the King of Omashu's banner. Instead of this steadily increasing frenzy, though, which should have reached a climax as we shouldered our way into the port, we find quiet, the kind of calm that aggravates instead of relaxes. We definitely should've been challenged by someone at some point. Instead, the only warship we see flies the Fire Nation banner, and they merely wave at us as they pass by.

I'm watching them fade into the distance. We're a day out from Omashu, and the feeling of unease has spread through the entire ship. I turn to my uncle, leaning at the railing next to me, puffing his pipe, his usual easy manner replaced by tension and restraint. Slowly, carefully, he turns to me, and we both meet each other's eyes. Without saying a word, we nod, then turn back to the sea. We don't need to speak what we're thinking.

_Something's not right…_

_ Something's gone __**wrong…**_

From that point on, I have Captain Fujita put the crew on war footing. Weapons are taken out of storage, polished and shined. Every crew member stays close to their battle stations. Our meals that final day are simple and to-the-point, made up of food that can easily be eaten quickly, or cast aside in a pinch. We strap on our armor, and I take my sword out of my foot locker, becoming greatly disturbed when my uncle comes in and does the same.

So yes, we're not exactly _surprised_ by the sight that greets us in Omashu, but that doesn't mean that we're _prepared._ Shock, I think, would be the most appropriate term. Shock, and not a little bit of fear.

The change that has occurred is startling. The last time we docked in Omashu was about four months before, early in the spring. It was the second largest city in the Earth Kingdom, and the home of the most powerful man in the nation, after the Emperor himself. The banners of both the Earth Kingdom and King Bumi flew proudly from the walls, and the streets and the gates were patrolled by elite earthbenders, many reportedly trained in methods devised by the King himself, an old and supposedly crazy man who was inexplicably universally loved by his people. There was a large garrison of Imperial troops, and, unlike many places in the Earth Kingdom, the city and its surrounding domains had never wavered in its commitment to resisting my forefathers. The port was also busy and bustling, and, unlike in many port cities, my crew and I always felt safe. Indeed, it was one of the few places in the world where I felt that I could move about openly; my uncle and I even once had an audience with King Bumi, about a year before.

It was a pleasant audience, very friendly, but as for the King, though…well, let's just say that, when my uncle finds you to be a bit _over the top_, you probably took a wrong turn somewhere. I cling to that memory, though, and many of my other memories of the city and my times there, as we pull into the harbor. I do my best to keep my spirits high, even as I look up the walls and my heart sinks into my stomach.

The old banners are gone, and in their places fly the blood red triangles of my Homeland. The city walls themselves are battered and, in several places, completely broken, scorch marks splattered across the rock. In the harbor, we pass several wrecked ships, and see others being towed back to shore. The docks themselves are shattered; only about a third of the berthing spots are still open. The parts of the city that we can see are in ruins, great gaping holes like open wounds in the land where buildings used to be. Even from the harbor, we can see the great scarlet rivers flowing through the streets, and pick out men in flame-shaped helmets pacing the walls.

That's what we _do_ see; it's what we _don't _see that's even worse. We see no sign of fighting, no sign of struggle. There are no fires, and though the damage is recent, it's far enough in the past for clean-up to have already begun. The ships and troops we see are alert, but relaxed. In short, the battle is over.

In short, as I put it not long after we come within sight of the city, "Gentlemen, I'm afraid that we have no choice but to conclude that the city has fallen."

We're in the officer's mess, assembled around the long wooden table. I stand at the head of the table, flanked by my uncle and Captain Fujita, while before me sit all eight of the ship's officers. Every single one of us has downcast faces; our distress is writ plain for all to see. Yes, we are all sons of the Fire Nation; in fact, every man in this room is a skilled firebender. But, when my exile began, my uncle chose my crew well, picking men who would not mind long absences. In short, no man on this ship is eager to see my father's rule spread across the land. Every single one of us has our reasons for wanting to avoid the Fire Nation's reach.

I give the news a moment to sink in, before pulling out my chair and settling myself in it. The meeting has the air of a war council; we're all in armor, with swords hanging from our hips and helmets resting in front of us on the table. The room is calm and quiet, tension thrumming through the haze of smoke floating up from our cigarettes and our pipes. I light my own cigarette then, trying desperately to ignore the way my scar is aching. I reach up, touch it gently, running my fingertips along the ruined skin. I close my eyes, and for a second, I allow myself to remember the shore, the village, two weeks before, linger on the moment when Katara's lips touched my scar without fear or hesitation and, for a moment, I forgot it was even there.

I push the memory aside. The time for finally allowing myself to be lost in such distractions, when I might consider allowing such distractions to become my life, is before me in the future. Now, though, I have to focus.

_As much as I'm beginning to suspect that I'm losing the willpower to do so…_

I take a deep breath, letting it out in a cloud of smoke. I clear my throat, and run my eyes across the assembled party. "Gentlemen, we have a decision to make, and I'm afraid we have to make it quickly, before we're challenged."

"I don't think I need to remind you all," Captain Fujita says, in that gravelly tone of his, like glass being crushed under a boot, a voice that is completely at odds with his warm personality and kind nature, "that being boarded would go ill for us."

We all take a moment to think about our hold full of Water Tribe trade goods, and our crew full of Fire Nation misfits, and give a series of solemn nods to each other.

My uncle is the next to speak. Gone is the jolly old man. The person before us now is very similar to the fearsome general who once earned the name, _The Dragon of the West._ "The decision, as I see it, is whether to attempt to carry on with our plan, or move on and try somewhere else."

The chief engineer, Murasaki, leans forward. "I'm not sure I see how it can even be a discussion. Obviously, we can't land here. The city is crawling with our nation's troops. We have to try to land somewhere else."

The weapons officer, Suzuki, shakes his head, slowly and carefully, a scowl even deeper than his usual one on his face. "But how do we know that we won't find every other potential port of call in the same state? If Omashu has fallen, it stands to reason that many of the smaller ports that it protected either have fallen, or will fall very soon."

Murasaki runs a hand through his hair, his normally cheerful face drawn and focused. "But we can't know that unless we look. My point is, we _definitely_ can't land here."

Suzuki continues shaking his head. "But we can't just spend the next _however long we have_ running from port-to-port. That will bring up more questions than we already have to answer."

"But," offers Uchimura, the navigation officer, "smaller ports mean smaller garrisons, with means it might be easier to bribe our way in and out, or, at the very least, bullshit our way in and out."

I clear my throat, calling their attention to me. It never ceases to amaze me at the way I've come to develop what my uncle calls an _aura of command._ When my voyage began, the crew, while never disrespectful, made no attempt to disguise that they didn't really think much of me. Now, their loyalty shines forth from every action they take, and they snap immediately to attention when I speak, no matter how much I tell them that I'm not longer a prince, that my uncle and Captain Fujita are in charge.

"Gentlemen," I say, voice cool and level, "these are all valid arguments, but the fact is that we're on a time-table here, a time-table made all the more severe by the fact that we can no longer count on being able to mosey our way along the coast, as we have grown used to."

They all nod, considering my words carefully. We sit in silence for a few moments, before Ishikawa, the other engineering officer under Murasaki, raises his head. He's a small, thin man, a few years older than me, who always looks a little sick, and when he speaks, he speaks in his usual spare, quiet voice, but we all listen, like we always do.

"I think," he says, weighing his words carefully, "that everyone here is right. It would be very dangerous to make landfall, here or anywhere. But the fact of the matter is, as I see it, we _must_ land here. We simple have no choice."

Uchimura starts to shake his head, leaning forward. "Well, of _course_ we must land, but I still don't think we should land _here_."

"Then where do you suggest?" asks Arakawa, the ship's medical officer.

"If not another port, then an isolated place," Uchimura explains, face set, "somewhere along the shoreline. We ourselves know a dozen spots, and we've used them all before."

Ishikawa shakes his head. "With our nation's troops crawling all over the place, I don't think that would be wise. And besides," he says, looking up to me, "whether we carry on with the original plan or not, we have to stop here and get information. Something of great importance has happened, just in the past few months, and we _need to know that._" He bows his head. "Such is my opinion, my lord."

I bow my head back. "And mine as well." I turn to my uncle, say, "What do you think, uncle?"

He puffs slowly on his pipe for a few moments before speaking. "I'm of a mind with you and Ishikawa-_san_. We need information before we make any more moves." He bows his head towards Murasaki and Uchimura. "However, you, gentlemen, are also correct. I do not feel comfortable with the idea of lingering a moment longer than we have to." The gentlemen in question bow back, while I turn to Captain Fujita.

"Captain, at the end of the day, it's your ship. What say you?"

He bows to me, then purses his lips in thought, arching his fingers before him. He taps the ends of his middle fingers together a few times, before, finally, lowering his hands.

"I agree with yourself and General Iroh. I do not care to sail any further in such a situation without knowing what's going on. I say we land, find out what's going on, and leave as quickly as possible. However," he focuses his attention on my uncle and me, "this may, in fact, be the perfect port of call for you two, with your mission. The countryside is likely to be in chaos, which will be greatly to your benefit."

Uchimura shakes his head, frowning. "I must object. If the countryside is in chaos, it will also be unsafe. I would beg my lords to not consider leaving here, as we originally intended."

Suzuki nods, face firm. "I agree. At the very least, take a few men with you."

I shake my head, slow and deliberate. "That, gentlemen, is not up for debate. The only thing that is up for debate at this point is where my uncle and I will leave the ship, and where you all will go next, and that must wait until after we land." With that, I rise, the others rising in unison along with me. "Any more questions?"

They all shake their heads.

"Very well. Gentlemen, to your stations. We have a ship to land."

With that, I bow fully at the waist, a bow they all return. Then we take up our helmets from the table and head to our posts.

* * *

Hey, look! Plot!

One of the things that always bothered me about the show was that Omashu, the second-largest city in the Earth Kingdom, a vital cog in the Earth Kingdom's war effort, was just kind of…_given up._ So, yeah, when my Omashu fell, there was a fight, and things got ugly, just as things are going ugly all over the world.

For those who are confused, or didn't read _A Different Path_, in my mind, the Earth Kingdom is like medieval China, in that there's an Emperor, but there are also various petty lords and kings all over the empire, with varying degrees of power, depending on the strength of the Emperor. The current Emperor, Kuei, as we all know (if we watched the show), is very weak. Thus, the local lords and barons and what-not have gotten rather big for their britches. This is important. Remember that detail.

For those playing the home game, I get a lot of my names from Wikipedia's various lists of people. For example, if you look up, "Japanese people," you get a link to a list of Japanese people. Then, you just find one that sticks in your mind, and roll from there.

In the next chapter, Zuko and Iroh go on a fact-finding mission, and come to a decision. Stay tuned!


	15. Chapter 15

15. NEITHER MY UNCLE NOR I ARE SURPRISED TO FIND TO FIND LIU BANG AT HIS DESK. The harbor district of the city is a wreck, the streets lined with rubble and hardly a single building lacking scorch marks or random boulders sitting in places they shouldn't be. The streets are crawling with soldiers, and any people we find do their best to hide, their eyes locked on the ground. The place has a haunted, surreal air to it, amplified by the boarded windows, locked doors, and frightened citizens glaring out at us through tiny cracks.

Despite that, we knock on the front door of the nondescript-looking building with confidence, and are not in the least bit stunned when the door immediately opens to reveal a young man who bows and waves us quickly inside. My uncle and I are dressed in very plain Earth Kingdom clothes, complete with broad conical straw hats that we remove upon entering. Despite that, and the fact that we both speak perfect Guangzhou, we're still blatantly Fire Nation. The clerk recognizes us instantly, and after a quick check out the window to make sure we're not being followed, he ushers quickly into the main office.

There, behind a heavy oak dress piled high with papers, in a plain room where not a single thing exists that doesn't relate to the work of the proprietor, we find the man we're here to see. The clerk drops us off without another word; indeed, he hasn't said a single word thus far. He just gestures to chairs that I know from experience are just as uncomfortable as they look, bows once more, then rushes off.

We sit in silence, watching the man before us scribble away at something. Liu Bang is a balding man in his fifties, what little hair remains quickly fading from grey to white. He's a big man, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest and an expansive belly. His mouth is framed by a thin, carefully-maintained goatee, and his eyes are hidden behind round, wire-framed glasses. He is intent on his work, as if he isn't even aware of our existence. Fortunately, my uncle and I have met him often enough to know that it's all part of the show, so we just fold our hands in our laps and wait.

And wait.

_And wait…_

We wait until, seemingly out of nowhere, Liu Bang stops scribbling, nods to himself, sets his pen down, slowly and carefully packs a pipe, lights it, puffs a few times, adjusts his glasses, and finally, _at last_, just when I was beginning to suspect that I was going to fucking _explode_ (patience not really being one of my strong suits), his eyes fall on us and he smiles his usual limp, thin smile.

"Ah, good morning, gentlemen." His voice is soft and clipped, his carefully polished Guangzhou still showing the gutters he grew up in around the edges. "I must admit, I'm not terribly surprised to find you two on my doorstep at such a time."

I stifle the urge to laugh with great difficulty. The idea that Liu Bang could be surprised by _anything_ is almost hysterically amusing. Beside me, my uncle takes his cue from our host, extracting his pipe from his shoulder pack and placidly lighting up before replying. I merely settle myself into my chair and try to pay attention; when dealing with Liu Bang, it's generally best to let my uncle do the talking.

"We do seem to have exquisite timing," my uncle admits, puffing calmly.

Liu Bang nods. "Indeed. So, might I ask, what brings you to my humble office on this fine summer day?"

My uncle shrugs. "Oh, this and that." He ponders for a moment, puffing away, before snapping his fingers, as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Which reminds me! We have just come from the Southern Water Tribes."

Liu Bang's only reaction is slowly allow an eyebrow to crawl up his forehead, before letting it slowly crawl its way back down. "I see…and how was this visit to the South?"

My uncle shrugs, heaving a leg up and resting it on the opposite knee, whereupon he begins idly toying with the heel of his boot. "Very profitable, in every way imaginable. For example," he points at me with his pipe stem, "my nephew here met a lovely young girl, and we intend to return to her village as soon as possible, so they may pursue their acquaintance."

Liu Bang nods, a thin smile creasing his face. "Ah, young love. I remember those days…I wish you much luck, young man, in your future romantic endeavors."

I bow my head, mutter, "Many thanks, sir," before resuming my ongoing mental count to a hundred.

"In fact," my uncle says, as if it was the most casual, unimportant thing in the world, "this young lady is part of the reason we came to see you."

"Oh?" is Liu Bang's only comment.

My uncle nods. "Indeed. You see, her father has been away fighting here in the Earth Kingdom for quite some time, and she wished us to take him a message. The problem being, of course," he continues, rolling his shoulders in a massive shrug, "that we really have no idea where the Southern Water Tribe army might currently be."

Liu Bang's head moves, so slowly that, if you didn't know better, you could be excused for missing it. It a wonder to behold, a slow, glacial process, like a mountain shifting over the centuries. Indeed, there's barely anything to indicate that the man is actually a human being. There's a lamp always kept burning in the back corner, so that the light reflects from his glasses, concealing his eyes behind two small disks of white; thus, even the proverbial _windows to the soul_ are concealed from view.

And yet, despite any indication the contrary, the merchant (for that's what he is, a broker of fine goods, not-so-fine goods, borderline illegal goods, and information of all kinds) and my uncle has just entered into serious business negotiations. My uncle has just informed Liu Bang that we are in the market for information, and that we have recently stopped at the Southern Water Tribes, whose goods Liu Bang has bought from us before. The implication is that we will give Liu Bang a deal on the price, in exchange for the information that we seek.

It's the kind of vital, subtle maneuverings that I have absolutely no talent for. That's why I let my uncle handle it, even if the process leaves me with a strong urge to set something on fire, if only for the change of pace.

While wheels turn in Liu Bang's head, my uncle passes his gaze over the office, taking in the sights, such as they are. It really is a place for work, and nothing else; every possible nook and cranny is overflowing with papers and ledgers and things of that sort. It's also, most likely, all for show; somehow, I doubt that anything of actual importance is stored in this place. Finally, my uncle takes his pipe from his mouth and says, "How are you doing these days, by the way? I noticed that the neighborhood has taken something of a _downward turn_ of late."

Liu Bang heaves a heavy sigh, clucking his tongue softly. "Yes, I have to admit, there has been some _difficulties_ of late."

My uncle nods slowly, tapping his pipe stem against his bottom teeth. "May I inquire as to what happened?"

Liu Bang shakes his head, still clucking that tongue against his teeth. "An ugly business, I'm afraid. Not three weeks ago, we received word that the Northern Water Tribes had come to terms with the Fire Nation. Not a week after that, a massive Fire Nation fleet appeared here, right on our doorstep. They came by land, by sea, and by air. The army fought hard, but I'm afraid that they were woefully overmatched. The fighting lasted for a week, and the city, as you can see, took a lot of damage. In the end, though, when it became clear that we would receive no aid from outside, King Bumi had no choice but to come to terms." It's sobering news, no doubt to Liu Bang as much, if not more, than my uncle and I, and yet, the way Liu Bang talks about it, he might as well be discussing what he had for breakfast that morning.

"So," my uncle says, taking this all in and maintaining the same kind of cool inflection, "the Fire Nation has only been in possession of the city for a week?"

Liu Bang nods. "Indeed, though you wouldn't know it from the way they've moved. Say what you will about your people, but they have an efficiency that I can't help but find quite admirable." He waves his pipe at a map tacked to one of the walls. "Even now, the southern provinces are falling like dominoes."

My uncle arches an eyebrow, seemingly reading my mind. "And the Emperor has done nothing?"

Liu Bang shrugs. "I'm afraid that, in this case, my information fails me. Something terrible has happened in Ba Sing Se. The details are confusing and conflicting, and even I can't make heads-or-tails of it."

This is actually the most shocking piece of news we've heard so far. The fact that Liu Bang, a man for whom the words _rumor has it_ actually mean _you can bet your lives on the information I'm about to give you_ would admit that something has happened of which he has no solid knowledge is, I think, the best _sign of the times_ that I've so far heard on this disappointing day. Even my uncle is thrown off enough to let a look of surprise flicker across his face before he puts his mask back in place.

"How distressing." My uncle bows his head. "My condolences on the effect this must be having on your various enterprises."

Liu Bang chuckles, which, for him, sounds more like a dry, barely audible _rumble_ than anything resembling what most human beings would be able to recognize as _amusement._ "You'd be surprised, old friend. War is always good for business, no matter whose flag flies from the city walls."

Translation: _It's been a fucking pain, but I wouldn't be where I am if I didn't know how to roll with the punches. Also, fuck the Fire Nation._

"In fact," Liu Bang continues, finally stirring from the position he's held for the entire conversation to lay his pipe down and cross his arms on top of his desk, "I must admit that I'm very interested in hearing more of your recent stay in the South. Did you find anything other than romance for your nephew?"

Translation: _What have you got, and is it good?_

My uncle shrugs, seemingly bored by the conversation. "Oh, just this and that, nothing you haven't seen before."

Translation: _The same kinds of trade goods that you've bought off of us before._

Liu Bang nods, his face lost in mental calculations. "Continuity is important, in a time like this. Too many changes can upset the balance of things." He lifts up a paper, lets it fall to the table. "Now, this information that you seek, about the Southern Water Tribe army, when did you need it by? I can put the information in a report, if you prefer."

Translation: _Good, because those are exactly the kinds of goods that I want. How much do you want for it? Also, this deal needs to be done quickly, and as quietly as possible._

My uncle allows a thin smile to crease his lips. "I agree, continuity is important, though small changes must occasionally be made, so as to fit the circumstances. Also, my nephew and I hope to set off early in the morning, so, if you have the information, we would be eternally grateful if you could give it to us sometime today. And, of course, a written report is not necessary, and would be too cumbersome, anyways."

Translation: _The same price as before, as much as you want, and we'll throw in a discount if the information is good and you help us get there. Also, fast and discrete is as good for us as it is for you._

Liu Bang smiles, as much as he's capable. "Excellent. My men will meet yours at the usual location in three hours' time. The foreman will have what you need."

Translation: _It's a deal. _

My uncle smiles back. "Your generosity, as always, is an inspiration to tired souls in difficult times."

Translation: _Ditto. Also, if you screw us, your ass is toast._

We're back outside, repositioning our hats and making our way back to the docks, before I finally take a moment to light a cigarette and take a few frenzied puffs. My uncle, of course, strolls along, content in the glow that one only gets after a deal well struck. Meanwhile, I'm ambling along beside him, trying to match my long strides to his short, calm ones, all while I rub the back of my neck in confusion.

"You know," I finally say, "I honestly didn't expect him to take the deal."

My uncle nods, eyes far away. "Neither did I, though, in retrospect, it makes sense. Winter is coming, and those furs will go for a high price, trade being what it is."

I mull that over. "Makes sense, I suppose. Sure he'll come through? I can't imagine he's too hot on the Fire Nation right now."

My uncle chuckles. "Nephew! Did you just make a pun?"

I smile to myself. "I suppose I did…fancy that…"

My uncle heaves a wistful sigh. "The wonders never cease. First a girl, then puns…what next? Jokes?"

I scoff. "Gods forbid."

He clucks his tongue. "An old man can hope. Going back to your question, though, never fear, Liu Bang is a slippery snake, but he'll never cross me." For a moment, his gleam, and decades fall off of his face. "Between you and me, this is actually his second business empire."

I laugh. "What happened to his first business empire?"

My uncle emits something disturbingly close to a giggle. "I'm afraid that the records of such things are sealed." He pats his stomach. "Now, we need to inform the crew, get things rolling, and eat! Business makes me hungry!"

I roll my eyes. "Of course it does. Still…" I fall silent for a few moments, before speaking again. "So…I suppose we've made our decision to follow through on our original plan?"

He nods. "With some adjustments, yes, but as you pointed out at the meeting on the ship, time is, sadly, of the essence, and we can't afford to lose any of it."

I grunt in agreement. "Indeed."

* * *

Fun Fact: In most cultures, even today, to just out-and-out directly discuss business is considered unspeakably rude. Knowing this, I decided to have some fun. In my mind, Iroh would just _rock_ at this kind of bullshit, while Zuko would…well…come on, we're talking about Zuko here. Even my version of Zuko isn't known for his subtlety. However, my version of Zuko, being twenty-two-years-old here, is mature enough to bite his tongue and stare at the ceiling. Plus, in most East Asian cultures, the younger you are, the less you are expected to say.

Also, before someone comments on this: Yes, I know, Omashu in ATLA doesn't have a port. However, my story needed it to have a port, so now it has a port. In my mind, it's kind of like the Hong Kong of the Earth Kingdom. Massively important, it's part of the main kingdom without actually being a _part_ of the Earth Kingdom. Thus, in my mind, in the southern Earth Kingdom, they speak Cantonese, which, in Cantonese, is called _Guangzhou_, in case you were wondering what the fuck _that_ was all about.

In the next chapter, Zuko and Iroh hit the road, and encounter the last person they ever expected to meet. Stay tuned!


	16. Chapter 16

16. WE LEAVE ON TIME, AT FIRST LIGHT THE NEXT MORNING. Parting with my crew turns out to be harder than I expected. There's this…_feeling_, deep down in my gut, like I've never really experienced before. For going on five years, these men have been the only family I had, and, in some ways, the only thing like a family that I've ever known. The degree of respect and loyalty that I've come to feel for them is impossible to put into words, and that morning, they prove to me, in a way even my own insecurities can't deny, that they feel the same way towards me. Every single man volunteers to accompany me, and at least a dozen take the time to meet me one-on-one and offer their services in person. It's difficult to decline, but in the end, I must. Two Fire Nation citizens wandering the countryside will be hard enough to explain; four will be downright impossible.

To my surprise, though, they accept my decision without argument or complaint. In the morning, they all assemble on the deck, the sky dark and overcast, the sun only a glimmer of purple clouds on the horizon. I thank them for their service, their loyalty, and the honor that they do to me, every day, and speak of how I return this honor in my actions. I inform them of the information that Liu Bang has provided us, that the Southern Water Tribe army is currently operating somewhere in the north, around Chameleon Bay. My uncle and I will seek them out on foot, and the ship will meet us there two months hence. I make clear that, as always, they are not bound to me in any way. Any man who wishes to leave the ship now could do so, with no questions asked, and would be fully paid out from the ship's treasury.

To my shock, not a single man moves. Instead, Captain Fujita turns to me, bows deeply, and informs me that they are my men to the end, as they have always been. It's hard to describe how deeply moved I am. Tears burn in the corner of my remaining good eye as I bow, from the waist, a full ninety degrees, first to Captain Fujita, then the officers, then the assembled crew. In a sight that I'll never forget, every man returns the bow, in unison, at which point, with a barely controlled voice, I thank them all, and my uncle and I take our leave.

Alone with my uncle on the docks, dressed in our Earth Kingdom peasant attire and with our hats hanging on our backs from the straps around our necks, I make no effort to hide the tears in my eye as they pull away from Liu Bang's secluded dock and slide off into the sea.

The road to Chameleon Bay leads away from Omashu, curving to the east and north. Since Liu Bang's dock is on the western side of Omashu's bay, we follow a circuitous route around the outer edges of the city, passing through ruined suburbs and skirting various military camps and checkpoints. Part of the deal with Liu Bang included the things we would need for the journey. Thus, we ride two purebred ostrich-horses, and carry about two weeks' worth of supplies in our saddle bags. In packs slung over our shoulders, we also carry various personal supplies, maps, compasses, cigarettes for me and pipe tobacco for my uncle, money, and forged papers in case we're stopped. We can easily pass cursory inspections, so long as they don't search my person, where they would find the letter from Katara to her father.

A letter written in ragged Suomi would, no doubt, be difficult to explain, but it's a risk I take willingly and with a full heart.

The sun is high in the sky by the time we finally reach the eastern road. Traffic is heavy, and we ride to the left side of the road with the other peasants, going at an easy pace, not in any mood to wear out our mounts. More than once, we pass contingents of army troops, and at one point, an airship lumbers overhead, the roar of the engines filling the local travelers with fear and my uncle and I with more than a little bit of trepidation.

We've been on the road for an hour when I reach up, tugging at my shirt collar. "Gods, it's hot," I observe. It really is. The sun is beating down with an intensity that would make a Fire Nation summer proud. The land seems burnt to a crisp, rolling green hills streaked with swatches of pale yellow grass. The trees seem to wilt in the heat, and not a single animal is to be seen or heard, other than those traveling in the service of humans. More than a few of the locals are stripped to the waist, and I can't help but envy them.

My uncle nods, his body swinging easily with the movement of the ostrich-horse. "I have to agree with you there, nephew. I must admit, it reminds me of home."

I shake my head, still toying with my collar. "I would have to disagree. The heat back home is dry. This heat, though? I feel like we could slice the air with a knife."

My uncle laughs. "What a poetic image! I didn't know you had it in you!" He clucks his tongue, eyes gleaming. "Falling in love really can do strange things to the soul."

I roll my eyes. "For fu-for the love of the gods, uncle, surely it's too hot to tease me."

He chuckles. "It's never too hot to fluster you, nephew."

I sigh, accepting the defeat. Though my heart is still heavy from the departure of my crew, the mere fact of being on the move, accomplishing something, pursuing a worthy goal, lifts my spirits. I can't help but feel light and, in a strange change of pace from most of my life, _free._ My uncle and I chatter away easily in Nihongo, since few would be able to understand, and our papers make no pretense of trying to hide the land of our birth. It is, in short, something of an adventure, though regrets still cloud the edges of my mind. A big part of me wishes that I could have found a way to share it with my crew.

_An even bigger part of me regrets not finding a way to bring Katara with me…_

I'm torn from the pleasant thoughts that train of thinking was sure to bring me to by a commotion on the road. Up ahead, a palanquin is slowly moving up the road. It's scarlet markings show it to be carrying Fire Nation citizens. I reach over, tap my uncle on the arm, and point. "What do you make of that?"

He peers at it through narrow eyes, then shrugs. "Who knows? Probably some wife or daughter of one of the generals."

I turn to him. "I thought generals were forbidden to take their families to war?"

He nods. "They are, but there's a loophole, in that it's okay, so long as they stay in an area that's considered _safe and occupied._"

"Ah, I see." I ponder for a moment, then say, "You never took your family with you."

He shakes his head. "No, I did not. I didn't feel it was right for the general to have access to his family when his soldiers did not." He frowns. "Even when my son began his service, I made sure he was in a unit not under my direct command. I didn't want him shown any favoritism, and neither did he."

I reach over, concern filling my face as I pat his arm. "I'm sorry I brought it up, uncle."

He gives himself a light shake, turns to me with a smile on his face, and pats my hand. "It's okay, nephew. I'm okay." His smile grows wider. "Besides, if I can't talk about Lu Ten with you, who _can_ I talk to about him to?"

I give his shoulder a squeeze, and pull my hand back. I search my mind for a lighter topic, and turn to him to say, "Hey, uncle, you know what I just thought of? Do you remember-"

"You there! Stop!"

We halt our progress, turn around in our saddles, to find that we had at some point in the past few minutes passed the palanquin. The palanquin was not stopped, pulled slightly off the road, and one of the guards had separated himself from it, and was advancing towards us, a scowl on his face and a hand resting lightly on his sword. My uncle and I cast concerned looks at each other, and for a moment, we consider making a run for it. Unfortunately, just at the moment, a troop of cavalry decides to start passing by, and we quickly decide against it. Instead, we remove our hats and bow our heads, while my uncle, speaking in a low, deferential voice, says, "Is there a problem, sir?"

The soldier stops, regarding us for a few moments. When he speaks, he ignores our question. "Are you two Fire Nation?"

My uncle nods, head still bowed. I do my best to keep my eye focused on the reins in my hands. "Yes, sir, we are."

The soldier nods, before gesturing towards the palanquin. "Dismount, and come forward. My lady wishes to speak to you." Without saying another word, probably immediately banishing from his mind, he spins about on his heel and marches back to the palanquin. My uncle and I give each other worried looks, shrug in resignation, and dismount, leading our mounts by the bridles. As we come to a stop a respectful distance from the palanquin, my uncle catches my attention with a grunt. I turn to him, and he points at his mouth. I stare in confusion for a moment, then, my eyes wide, I hurriedly pluck the cigarette that's dangling from my lips and grind it out with my boot.

Before us, a servants steps from inside the palanquin. She regards us curiously, before turning around to life the flap aside and reach in to take a soft, pale hand. At the sight of it, my uncle and I immediately bow fully at the waist, our bodies parallel to the ground, and hold it. I focus on the grass and the dirt, listening to the world rattle by around us. I doubt anyone takes even a moment of their time to pay attention to what's going on.

I'm first aware of the lady who wishes for a closer look at us from her light, dainty footsteps. Instantly, I mark her down as nobility, probably upper nobility, maybe a general's wife, as my uncle suggested, or perhaps the daughter of some civilian official, sent here to govern the new conquests. I wrack my mind for some reason why she would want to speak to us, but come up short. To my right, I can hear the wheels turning in my uncle's head, as he tries to do the same. I wonder if he's doing any better.

The footsteps stop just out of my sight. Whoever has made them stands, silent and rigid, regarding us. My back is starting to ache, and sweat is beginning to run down my face and into my eyes. I desperately want to straighten out, but our cover stories rely on us acting the parts of people who know their place, and I have no desire to shatter those covers for some bored noblewoman suffering from a fit of curiosity. From my right, my uncle sighs, softly as he can, so that only someone who knows him as well as I do would be able to tell that he's just as exasperated as me.

Finally, someone speaks. It's a voice I don't recognize. Judging from the accent, it's probably the servant. "Rise," she says, and with great gratitude, I do so.

_And instantly wish I hadn't._

My eye flies wide. My heart leaps up my throat and out of my mouth. A cold as chill and sharp as a knife spreads through my chest and into my very bones. The day suddenly doesn't feel so hot, though the air feels just as heavy and thick as before, almost as heavy and thick as my tongue has suddenly become.

_You've got to be fucking kidding me…_

There, before me, stands the last person I _ever_ expected to see, traveling down a dusty road in the Earth Kingdom in the middle of summer. It boiling hot, but of course she doesn't show it. She stands as calm and cool and rigid as she always has. Her back is ramrod straight, and her face seems carved from stone. Her make-up is perfectly applied, not a strand of hair or stitch of clothing out of place. Her arms met at her stomach, her hands hidden in the folds of her sleeves. I found myself wondering how many knives she had stashed up there. I resisted the urge to lick my lips, to cringe, to bolt, to run as fast as I possibly could. I wondered if my uncle was feeling the same. It was only with the greatest show of willpower I've ever experienced that I was able to resist the impulse to look to him in panic.

While I no doubt looked like a frightened puppy, her face was impassive, as always. Indeed, the best way I could think of to describe her expression was with one word: _**Unamused.**_

Yup, standing before me was the last person I expected to meet, and the last person I wanted to.

The servant clears her throat, either not noticing the sudden change of atmosphere, or not caring. "Do you two have any idea who my lady is?"

We shake our heads. "No, my lady," we chorus.

The servant scoffs. "This is the Lady Arinori Mai, daughter of the new governor of this province, Lord Arinori Ichiro. She does you great honor by wishing to speak with you."

My uncle and I nod, slowly, dumbly, and bow once more. When we rise, my uncle says, in a voice that reflects a cool and calm that I am desperately jealous of at that moment, "We are honored to meet your lady."

Before me, Mai sighs. Her eyes have yet to leave mine. "Your honor does nothing for me. What I would like are answers."

In the Fire Nation, a peasant does not speak to someone of the upper classes unless spoken to, and even then, unless specifically addressed, a young man will always defer to the oldest member of whatever group he's traveling in. We all know she's speaking to me, but there are forms to be followed, if my uncle and I wish to leave this place alive.

"Of course, my lady. What answers do you seek?"

"Well," Mai says, her voice flat and even and, to be honest, kind of dead, "for one thing, I would like to know who you are."

My uncle gives a quick bow. "Of course, my lady. If you will allow me to get my papers…"

Mai rolls her eyes, which she manages to do without so much as twitching a muscle on her face. Her ability to do such things has always left me slightly in awe. "_Please_. Just tell me. And quickly, now. I have places to be."

The words are urgent, but the tone remains the same, lifeless and cold. I'm beginning to have uncomfortable memories of the first dinner I was forced to endure with her, back when I was fourteen.

"Of course, my lady," my uncle says. "My name is Murakami Kobe, and this is my nephew, Murakami Haruki." At the mention of my _name_, I give a quick, shallow bow.

Somewhere, deep and carefully concealed, a tiny portion of Mai's left eyebrow twitches. It's gone so quickly that, for a moment, I suspect that I imagined it, kind of like how, if you stare at a blank wall for long enough, you begin to think you see movement.

"Is that so? How interesting. A pleasure to meet you, Murakami_-san._"

My uncle bows. "And us, you, my lady. Was there anything else you wished to know?"

"Yes," she replies, "quite a bit. For example, what are you doing out on this road, heading for the east?"

"We are heading for Gaoling, looking for work, my lady."

She nods, a barely perceptible twitch of her head. "I see. You know, there's plenty of work for you in Omashu these days."

"Yes," my uncle says, "but not the kind of work we're interested in."

Mai arches an eyebrow, about a fraction-of-a-fraction-of-an-inch. "Is that so? Avoiding the draft, are we?"

My uncle fills his voice with pleading. He really does belong on the stage. "My lady, my nephew and I have both done our duty in His Majesty's armies. I fought for Fire Lord Azulon for many years, and my nephew himself fought until he was medically discharged after being wounded in battle." He bows low, voice shaking. "Now that he's well again, I have no desire to see him snapped up by the army. Please, I beg you to let us be on our way."

Mai seems to take this in, rolling the story around in her head. It's a good story, and solid. We would be far from the only Fire Nation citizens abroad in the land, doing their best to stay one step ahead of the press gangs. Desertion has long been a problem, especially in the Earth Kingdom, where the country is so big and the people are similar enough in some places for people of my nation to blend in if they have to.

It's also a crime punishable by death, if one is caught. So, yeah, there's _that_.

But Mai doesn't point any of that out. All she says is, "I see," before taking a step towards me. I struggle to control a flinch, willing my body into a hunk of steel. I can't help but think of Katara, to wish desperately for her to be beside me. Somehow, I feel like that would make this easier, that it would make me stronger. With shock, I realize that, with my former fiancée standing before me, I can only think of one thing:

_That I miss Katara…_

I push the thought away, because Mai has taken yet another step. She's barely two feet away from me. My mind reels when I realize that this is the closest we have ever been to each other, in our entire lives.

Something flashes across her eyes, deep down in their murky depths. If I'd blinked, I would've missed it. If I didn't know better, I would've thought that it was…_emotion_, and that emotion was…_regret._

_But that can't be._

_ This is __**Mai**__, for gods' sake…_

"You know," she says, in a voice that thrums with something I can barely detect and can't begin to name, "I once knew a boy with a scar like that."

I nod slowly, struggling to force my heart back down my throat. "Oh, my lady?"

She nods. "It's true. I…I liked him a lot." She looks down at her hands for a moment, sets her shoulders, then looks back to me. That _something_ still seems, down in the depths of her eyes. "His sister…his sister always used to taunt me. I went to the Royal Academy with her. She used to go on and on about he didn't like me, not at all, that he was only marrying me because he was being told to, but I couldn't help but think, couldn't help but hope…" She gives herself a slight shake, and inside the folds of her sleeves, I can't help but suspect that she's fiddling with the seams. "What do you think, young man? Do you think he could have liked me, if not then, then eventually? The way I liked him?"

I don't know what to say. Never in my life could I ever have imagined something like this happening. I honestly haven't devoted Mai more than a passing though in _years_. She was a part of my past, a sliver of a life that I'd begun to turn to my back on, to close the door on, to burn the bridges that would've tried to lead me there. But there she is, faint flickers of emotion sparkling in her eyes, looking to me, there, by the side of a dusty road on a horribly hot summer day, outside of a shattered city, while troops and peasants pass each other around us, and I know that I owe her an answer.

_I owe her something…_

"I don't know, my lady," I say, my voice soft and quiet, barely a whisper. "I can't speak for that boy, because I haven't known anyone like him for a long time, but…" I swallow hard, my tongue scraping the inside of my mouth like sandpaper. "Maybe, in time, he would've come around." I bow my head. "I do feel like he would always have been faithful to you."

When I look up, something sparkles in the corner of her eyes, something that looks remarkably like a tear. Without hesitation, she blinks it away.

"Of that, I have no doubt. That's the kind of person he was, and no doubt is. That's…that's why I liked him so much." There's another heavy pause, until she speaks again, her voice soft and quiet. "When he…when his _accident_ happened, he asked me what I thought about it. I said…I said something I shouldn't have said." She takes a long, deep breath. "If you ever see that boy, tell him I'm sorry I said that."

I bow, low, deep, and slow. "I will, my lady, I promise."

When I rise, I find her looking at me with an expression that can almost be described as _sad_. "You would." Without another word, she turns about, marches to the palanquin, and, without waiting for her servant to help her, climbs back inside. The servant climbs in after her, there's a shout, and then the palanquin is once more making its slow, steady progress down the road.

My uncle and I spend the rest of the day in thoughtful silence. Neither of us are entirely sure what to say, or even entirely sure what had just happened. It feels like some sort of strange dream, or maybe a sick, twisted joke, another farce put on by the gods.

The only thing I do know for sure is that, the entire time I was standing there, staring into the eyes of my past, all I could think about was Katara.

* * *

Holy shit, guys! We ran into Mai! That was pretty fuckin' crazy, right? Bet you didn't see that coming!

Seriously, though, that was kind of fun. I enjoyed it, and I hope you did, too. If you're curious as to the purpose of this chapter, basically, this story is about Zuko choosing to carve a new path for himself, towards a future unlike any he ever imagined. In order for him to do that, at some point, he would have to run face-first into his past. Thus, this. Also, I felt like I needed to make it up to Mai for what I did to her in _A Different Path_. So, voila!

For those playing the home game, Zuko's alias, Haruki Murakami, is the name of one of my favorite authors. Seriously, check him out; he's pretty awesome. Iroh's first name, Abe, is the last name of another one of my favorite writers, Kobe Abe (I read a lot of Japanese literature, because I'm a dork).

Also, with Fire Nation names, I'm following the East Asian custom of the family name coming before the personal name. Thus, _Haruki Murakami_ is, actually, _Murakami Haruki_. Just in case you were confused.

In the next chapter, Zuko and Iroh arrive in Gaoling, settle in, and start poking around. They might even take in a few of the local sights. Stay tuned!


	17. Chapter 17

17. IT'S ANOTHER WEEK BEFORE WE ARRIVE IN GAOLING. We make good time, all things considered. The countryside is alive with war and rumors of war. From what we see and what we hear, troops are pouring into Omashu and fanning out over the countryside, a great scarlet tide, like blood seeping from an open wound. It's as if the belly of the Earth Kingdom has been torn open. The entire nation is reeling, a fighter finally faltering in the final round. There doesn't even appear to be much fighting. What Earth Kingdom armies remain in the field are either away to the north, or in full-scale retreat. We hear of scattered skirmishes, desperate rearguard actions, but other than that…

_Nothing…_

Through it all, humanity continues to move. The road is choked with refugees, a great, winding artery, clogged with brown and green and threaded with marching columns of scarlet and black. My father's banner advances everywhere, carrying all before it. Every time I see one, my heart sinks into my stomach. A heavy sense of dread seeps into my bones, takes hold of my very soul. I can't help but worry that we've come too late, that our errand will end in tragedy.

We finally outpace my father's armies on our sixth day out from Omashu. We come upon a cavalry patrol, a couple dozen outriders breaking for lunch, sipping tea and smoking and feeding their komodo-rhinos. At our approach, one of them peels away, strides into the middle of the road to halt us. We quickly dismount, leading out mounts forward and giving deep bows. I won't lie, the amount of that kind of bowing that I've had to do in the past few days is starting to grate on my nerves; it brings up all kinds of unpleasant memories of my childhood. I swallow the irritation, and let my uncle do the talking. I don't fully trust my patience.

"Good afternoon," my uncle says as we rise.

The soldier bows slightly, a superior to an elder. "Good afternoon, citizen." He reaches out a hand. "Papers, please."

We bow once more and extract our papers from our shoulder packs, hand them over. The soldier gives the papers quick once-overs, then hands them back over, his eyes lingering on me.

"Hold old are you, son?"

I bow my head. "Twenty-two, sir."

He nods. "You know, we could use a few men like you."

I bow again. "With respect, sir, I've already done my military service." I rise, tilting my head so that he can see my scar. "With respect, I'd rather not step into a tank again."

He nods slowly, a degree of understanding and sympathy softening his hard, soldier's eyes. "I can understand that." He turns back to my uncle, his gaze not as suspicious as it was before. "Where are you headed?"

My uncle bows. "Gaoling, sir. We've heard that there's work there."

The soldier nods. "Work, maybe, and no soldiers."

My uncle gives a thin, respectful smile. "If you say so, sir." He frowns, tips his head down. "May I ask why there are no soldiers, sir?"

The soldier shrugs, quickly losing interest in the exchange. "There really isn't much in Gaoling. The Earth Kingdom doesn't seem to be willing to defend it, and we can't be bothered to occupy it. Our orders are to pass it by for the time being." He reaches up, pulls at his collar. We're in the middle of a dense forest, the trees arching over the road and blocking the sun from view, but even here, the heat is stifling. "And besides, the Bei Fongs have offered to come to terms, so we might just leave it alone, let them handle things."

My uncle arches an eyebrow. "The Bei Fongs, sir?"

The soldier nods. "The local barons or whatever. Rather big wheels, from what I've heard." He steps out of our path, waves down the road. "Just so you know, right there, the Fire Nation ends. We can't guarantee your safety."

We bow. "We understand," my uncle says. "Thank you for your concern."

The soldier waves us away. "Whatever. Be on your way, citizens."

With that, we're on our way.

It's another two nights before we make it to our destination. Gaoling is a moderately-sized town, nestled in a sea of rolling green hills, surrounded by light forests and fields of golden grain gently rustling in the wind. There really don't appear to be any Imperial soldiers in sight. The only armed we encounter are at the city gates, a pair of alert-looking men wearing what looks to be pale white winged boars emblazoned on their armor. Alert though they may have been, the guards looked utterly miserable, visibly wilting in the heat, and waved us into the town with only a cursory inspection of our documents.

We dismounted just outside the city gates, and led our mounts into the city, taking in the sights. The entire countryside was awash with war, but one wouldn't know it to look at Gaoling. Indeed, the town had the air of a country festival. The streets were filled with people, all lining up and any number of stalls selling all kinds of things. There was a palpable air of excitement buzzing all around us, and everyone seemed to be flowing in one direction, towards a strange, squat structure in the center of town. Pausing for a moment, I reach over and tug at my uncle's sleeve. "Look, uncle," I say, "they've taken down all the Imperial flags."

He casts his eyes over the buildings, and nods. "Indeed, so they have. It looks like that soldier was right."

I look at one of the few remaining flags, bearing the same white winged boar as we saw on the armor of the guards at the gates. I point at the flag, say, "I guess that's the banner of the Bei Fong family."

My uncle shakes his head. "So it would seem." He watches the ebb and flow of the crowds for a few moments, stroking his beard. "I wonder where everyone is going…"

I shrug, taking a moment to light a cigarette. "Who knows? We should probably ask someone."

My uncle snaps his fingers, as if the idea has just occurred to him. "You know, nephew, I think you might just be right!" He slaps me on the back, eyes sparkling. "You get right on that, while I go look for lodging."

I stare in shock for a moment, before rolling my eyes and handing over the reins to my ostrich-horse. As I turn away and join the crowds, I mutter, _"Gods-damn crazy old man…"_ From behind me, my uncle calls, "What was that?", to which I reply, "Nothing, uncle!" His only response is laugh, shaking with mirth as he strolls away. I roll my eyes once more, still muttering under my breath, adjusting the pack on my shoulder as I resume my walk.

I do my best to blend in, tilting my hat back and shoving a hand in my pocket. I prick my ears, listening carefully. The local dialect is difficult to understand, but not impossibly so, and after a few moments, I start to get used to it. I let the words and phrases and inflection roll over me, allow it settle into my bones, until I finally feel confident enough in my ability to make myself understood. Sliding up to a man about my age, I toss my spent cigarette aside and pull out another, leaning over and asking, "Excuse me, have you got a light?"

He looks at me with suspicion for a moment, examining me closely, before relaxing and pulling out a box of matches. "Sure, here you go."

I bow my head, striking a light. "Thank you, sir," making a big show of puffing contently on my new cigarette before handing the box back to him. I focus on the cigarette, letting the bite of the tobacco take the sting out of the awkwardness I always feel when talking to be people I don't know. I had the matches back. "Hot out today."

He nods, starting to relax a bit more himself. "You've got _that_ right." He turns his eyes to me, arching his brow. "The name's Lee Kuan. You?"

"Murakami Haruki." We give each other shallow bows, and continue our stroll.

He rolls my name around a bit, before saying, "Fire Nation?"

I shrug, doing my best to look embarrassed. "Yes, but don't hold it against me." I jerk my thumb back towards the gates. "I'm about as excited to see that flag as you are."

He chuckles, giving me a look of fresh appraisal. "Draft dodger?"

I give him an apologetic look. "Afraid so." I reach up, tap my scar. "As I see it, I already gave enough to those highborn bastards back home. I'm in no mood to give them more."

He nods, then shakes his head sadly. "I hear that. Unfortunately, we may not have a choice for much longer."

I sigh. "You've got that right."

We walk a bit more, before he speaks again. "Where are you from, Murakami? If you don't mind my asking. Your Guangzhou is good, but a little strange."

I shrug, jerk another thumb back towards the east. "My uncle and I have been living in Omashu for a few years."

He nods, comprehension spreading across his face. "Ah, I see. That explains a lot." He frowns. "Is it true that the city has fallen?"

My face twists into a grimace that I don't have to fake. "I'm afraid so. Just a couple of weeks ago, I'm afraid. That's why my uncle and I came here."

"I see. How long have you been in town?"

I chuckle. "About ten, fifteen minutes, give-or-take. Which reminds me…" I look around, gesture absently at the crowds. "What's the deal with this? Doesn't everyone know that there's a war on?"

He shrugs. "We don't concern ourselves much with the war here. The Bei Fongs have always done their best to stay out of it, and there's simply nothing valuable enough to be worth fighting over, anyways." He rolls his shoulders backward around in a lazy circle, spreading his hands. "And now that it seems that Lord Bei Fong will seek to accommodate the Fire Nation, there's really no reason to think much more of it."

"I see." I have to admit, I find that kind of thought refreshing. _Not think about the war? Do one's best to ignore it? Hide out in a place no one would ever think of fighting over? _An uncomfortably large part of me wants to find out who's dick I have to suck to get that kind of deal. A mad urge to find a way to fly back to the South and fetch Katara, hide with her here, strikes me, and it takes a strong effort to push it down with all my other idle (well, okay, maybe not _that_ idle) fantasies. I gesture at the crowd we're a part of. "But I'm still not sure I understand all of this. Where are we going?"

He arches an eyebrow, surprise in his face. "You don't know? You really _are_ new in town."

I shrug, doing my best to imitate my uncle's _Ignorant Country Rube_ act. "What can I say? We don't get much news of the countryside in Omashu. All my uncle and I knew was that, supposedly, there was no war here, and thus, no press gangs."

He nods, a smile spreading across his face. "Well," he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders, "you're in luck, friend Murakami. Today, you see, is the semi-final round of the Earth Rumble Tournament."

I arch an eyebrow. I have to admit, getting companionable with Lee Kuan, a boy my age, is a lot easier than I would have expected. My mind flies back to Sokka, and the routine of friendly taunts and jibes we had begun to develop, away in the South. "Well, that certainly has my interest, friend Lee. I assume that we're talking about some kind of earthbending competition?"

He laughs. "Absolutely, and only the best one in the land! You really have no idea how lucky you are. A lot of the early rounds are dog-shit, just various newbies trying to get attention and getting crushed by the veterans. It's the final rounds where things get interesting. Like today!"

"And what about today is so interesting?" I won't lie, my attention is piqued.

He chuckles, a broad smile on his face. "The Blind Bandit is making another attempt at the title."

I arch an eyebrow. "_The Blind Bandit?_"

He nods. "Believe it or not, she's this girl, barely sixteen-years-old, and the best earthbender I've _ever_ seen! No one knows who she is, but she's amazing. She's made it to the final round every year since she started competing, at _twelve_, if you can believe it."

I laugh. "I have to confess, I don't."

His eyes go wide. "And neither would I, if I hadn't seen it for myself!" He socks me lightly in the arm. "That's why you're so lucky." He pats my shoulder. "Here, stick with me, and I'll tell you everything you need to know."

On impulse, I throw my own arm around his own shoulders. "I think I can deal with that. Though I gotta ask…why is she called _The Blind Bandit?"_

He laughs. "Because she's blind!"

I roll my eyes. "Now _that_, I call bullshit."

He nods, still chuckling. "Yeah, I don't really believe it, either. But still, it's a fun story, isn't it?"

I mull that over before nodding. "I will have to agree with you there, friend Lee. In fact, from now on, I believe you. The Blind Bandit is definitely blind!"

He laughs, thumps my back. "That's the spirit! By the way, think I can bum a smoke off you?"

"Absolutely."

My new friend is lighting his cigarette as we step through the gates of what I now know to be the arena. A part of me objects to this sidetrack in my agenda, but that part of me is smaller than I would ever have expected it to be. The truth is, I'm enjoying myself, and this looks like fun, and my uncle would happily encourage me down this road. And besides, a tournament means alcohol, and alcohol means loose tongues, and loose tongues mean information I don't have to buy or trick off of people.

So, yeah, it's work, right?

* * *

Hey guys, guess who we're about to see?! I'll give you three guesses!

So, let's not waste any time, eh? In the next chapter, Zuko and his new friend watch a show, and Zuko gets a glimpse of a very interesting individual. Stay tuned!


	18. Chapter 18

18. THE ARENA IS VERY STRANGE IN ITS ALMOST FAMILIARITY, REMINDING ME STRONGLY OF AN AGNI KAI FIELD. It was a circular arena, with seats all around the fighting field, and capacity for at least several thousand people. Down below us is a bit of a pit, and rising up from the pit is a raised rectangular platform made of earth and stone, with the Earth Kingdom crest carved out in the middle. It's an impressive space, and I tell Lee so. He beams at me, obviously proud to find that his home town has impressed an outsider, especially one who'd spent time in Omashu.

While the arena fills up, he takes some time to explain the rules. The Earth Rumble, he tells me, is more about the _show_ than it is about actually _winning_. The most skilled earthbender in the world will be booed if they don't put on a good spectacle. Thus, every fighter has some kind of _persona_, complete with costume and catchphrases and stock punch-lines.

"So," I say, genuinely intrigued, "I gotta ask: Are the games rigged?"

Lee waves at a food vender while he answers my question. "To some extent, probably, though how _much_ or how _often_ they're rigged, no one knows, and, to be honest, as long as the show is good, no one cares." The food vendor appears, and Lee buys two meat skewers off of him while I wave over a drink vendor and buy two mugs of beer. We do a little trading, and then he continues, munching away. "Do they not have things like this in the Fire Nation?"

I shake my head, washing down a bite of meat with a swig of beer. The meat is a bit stringy, but it's quite good, and the beer is far better than I expected at such a venue. "Not really, no. I mean, firebenders fight each other sometimes, but it's more _duel to the death_ than _entertainment for the masses._" My scar twinges at these words, but I ignore it. Ignoring it is getting easier these days.

_Strange, that…_

"That's a shame," Lee observes. "You guys should really look into that."

In my mind's eye, I conjure up an image of two enraged nobles bending fireballs at each other while a stadium full of peasants cheers them on. I have to admit, it's an amusing idea, so I nod and say, "You know what, you just might be on to something."

Lee laughs. "I usually am. I'm full of ideas, only, as my mother likes to put out, none of them are particularly useful." Suddenly, there's a blaring of horns, and from somewhere comes a rhythmic _thump-thump-thump_ of big drums being beat in unison. It's hard not to get a little excited, especially as the stage starts to come to life.

On the fighting ground, a troupe of dancers rolls out, combined delicate earthbending with intricate movements to produce a display that's quite impressive. After one particularly daring display, I find myself clapping and cheering with all the rest. Suddenly, the dancers all converge on each other, chanting and singing. They pack themselves into a tight ball, and then, suddenly, erupt away from each other. In the middle of the space they had just occupied, a man stands, tall and rather regal. The crowd erupts into applause, then silences itself as he begins to speak.

When he does speak, his voice booms, the very air practically vibrating with every word and syllable. I find myself frowning and turning to Lee. "Hey, is that an airbender?"

He nods, eyes fixed on the stage. "I believe so, yeah. That's how he does the trick with his voice." He turns to me, eyebrow popped. "Why?"

I shrug. "No reason, I've just never really seen one before, just heard they could do that." In the depths of my memory, my father's voice slithers out of the darkness, commanding me to seek out the Avatar and to not come back until I do. I shake my head, struggling not to laugh at the angry boy who actually thought that such an act would mean anything.

Down on the fighting floor, the announcer continues his spiel. He gives a rundown of the previous few days of the tournament, carrying the audience along with his vivid descriptions of the fights that have taken place. He's quite good, really. The crowd is completely carried away with his vivid descriptions and the way he throws his entire body into the act. Even I find myself captivated by the performance, and I'm a little crestfallen when he ushers the first two semi-finalists out onto the floor, not least because, unlike many in the crowd, I couldn't help but find the fights a little disappointing. From what I could tell, one of them was a huge, lumbering beast of a man, bald except for a ridiculous poof on his head, called _The Big Bad Hippo_, while the other was a deeply tanned, obscenely muscular lug going by the name _The Boulder_, which I felt was appropriate, because he was built a bit like a boulder himself. When the announcer was done talking, the men gave each other deep bows, a priest came out to say a few prayers, and then a gong rang and the match began.

To my eyes, it was rather boring. I have nothing against earthbending, but to be honest, I've seen it before, and there nothing particularly _new _here. I also found the personalities of the fighters to be rather tiresome. The Boulder was especially aggravating, capering about the ring, mouthing off and taunting his opponent, who spent most of his time lumbering around like the barrel-on-legs that he was. Sure, the bending was skillful, and it all produced a great spectacle, which the crowd just ate up, but I couldn't help but find my attention wandering.

In the end, the Boulder won, and judging from the reaction of the crowd, not only was this the expected outcome, but he was something of a crowd favorite. I politely clapped along with everybody else, and idly wondered how long the next bout would last.

My mind wasn't wandering for long.

The next match was something…well…_different._ An expectant hush fell over the crowd, and I found myself leaning forward, sipping a fresh mug of beer, eyes peeled on the stage. The announcer came back out, and began launching into his bit, going on and on about the next two fighters, about their unique styles and strange personalities and mysterious pasts. No one, he made clear, truly knew who these two individuals were, no matter how many questions were asked. When he finally reached the end of his speech, he waved his arms to one side, and suddenly, as if appearing out of thin air, a strange-looking, long-limbed man in a green mask came scampering onto the field on all fours. This man, I soon learned, was _The Gecko_, and even I had to admit, he was kind of…well…_odd._ He ran circles around the ring, waving his arms in the air and pumping up the crowd, who responding with hoots and hollers and not a few boos. When he was done, he sat back on his haunches, eyes focused on the other side of the ring, while the announcer took one more breath.

"Ladies and gentlemen, and all the rest who aren't fit for such a description," we all chuckled at that, even me, "the next fighter, I'm sure, needs no introduction. For four years now they have fought, and for four years, their identity has remained a closely guarded mystery. No one knows who they are, or where they came from. In that, they're like so many of us, fleeing from somewhere else to get somewhere else. And so, without much further ado, I give you the one, _the only_, _**THE BLIND BANDIT!"**_

The crowd went wild, jumping to their feet. I leaped up with them, but was instantly struck silent when I caught sight of the figure that producing all the ruckus.

There, striding onto the field, as she had not a care in the world, was one of the smallest, most petite teenage girls I've ever seen. If she was, indeed, sixteen, as Lee claimed, I would be surprised. She looked to be barely an inch or two past five-foot, and dressed like a boy in grubby clothes, all while wearing no shoes. If she was intimidated by the fact that she was probably one of the smaller individuals in the city, nevermind the ring, she did not show it. Her head was held high and her shoulders were back, her spine ramrod straight as she practically _sauntered_ out onto the field. Even from all the way up in the stands, I could tell that she was one of the most confident people I would ever see. Without pausing, she strolling right up to the announcer, tugging at his sleeve and motioning for him to bend down. He did so, and she whispered in his ear something that made him laugh. He straightened back up, and proclaimed, "The Blind Bandit wishes me to inform you, her people, that you are all worthless sacks of shit, and that, as far as she's concerned, you can all go fuck yourselves, for bothering to show up to such a pointless match."

At that, the crowd burst into hysterics, practically rolling around in the aisles in glee. Apparently, part of the Blind Bandit's persona, and a great deal of her charm, was the very _who-gives-a-shit_ attitude that I had seen writ plain across every fiber of her being, the instant she stepped onto the stage. Her taunt delivered, the girl flipped off the crowd with both hands, and seemed to actually _scoff_ at the cheers that erupted as she walked to her starting position, with all the care and finesse of my uncle strolling to the privy, a book tucked under his arm.

Needless to say, this match definitely had my attention. The Gecko didn't surprise me much; everyone has a gimmick. The Blind Bandit, though? Let's just say that my curiosity was piqued. After that, the rituals were performed, with the only difference from the first round being that the Blind Bandit, rather than bow, spat on the ground and began picking her teeth. Every inch of her proclaimed _boredom_, as if she just really couldn't be bothered to give so much as a _fraction_ of a fuck. Then the gong sounded, and the fight began.

A few years ago, during a visit to Omashu, my uncle dragged me to see an earthbending demonstration by a group of upper-level students from an elite earthbending academy. The bending I saw that day was less fighting technique, and more art form. My uncle was moved to tears by the sight, and even I had to admit to being affected by the display. The forms were intricate and flawless, every second of the routine polished to perfection, every student a finely tuned cog in a perfect machine. For me, that demonstration has always defined what earthbending is. It was the first time that I truly began to see the beauty in other disciplines, just as my uncle as always admonishing me to do.

This…well…_this was not that kind of earthbending._

No, the Blind Bandit, a petite, diminutive teenage girl, was doing something I'd never seen before. Her movements and her forms were perfect in their imperfection, almost striking at the core of the earth itself. There wasn't a speck of dust that she didn't seem to have complete and utter mastery of. The entire match went exactly as she intended; the Gecko never stood a chance. She made a good show of it, though; indeed, she was a natural showman, cackling hysterically as she slowly and methodically took her opponent to pieces. It was like watching a master craftsman at work, carving an intricate design from a block of marble. Soon, I was floating along with the crowd, moving back and forth with the ebb and the flow. I cringed when they cringed, gasped when they gasped, cheered myself hoarse right there with all the others. It was the most beautiful, sublime, enthralling display I'd ever seen. Indeed, by the end of that fight, I would've happily put that girl in the ring with any bender I could possibly think of, and without hesitation, bet on her.

And the entire display was narrated by a cackling girl, laughing like a loon and cursing like a drunken sailor who had just stubbed his toe.

When she was done, the announcer ran out onto the field, lifting the girl onto his shoulders while the crowd went wild, myself among them. Like the lowliest, crudest peasant, I stamped my feet and waved my beer and screamed and yelled and whistled. Lee was right beside me, carried away just like everyone else.

And how did the Blind Bandit reply? Well, as only she could have responded, of course. She motioned for silence, took a deep breath, cleared her throat, then flipped the crowd a double bird and screamed, _"How do you like that, motherfuckers?! __**WHO'S THE TOP BITCH NOW, HUH?!"**_

Yeah, we cheered. How could you not?

* * *

Hmmm…I wonder who that could be…

Let's find out!

In the next chapter, Zuko wanders into a bookstore, finds some stuff for Katara, and stumbles upon a very peculiar earthbender with a very strange sense of humor. Stay tuned!


	19. Chapter 19

19. LEE AND I PARTED WAYS AT OUTSIDE THE ARENA. He had to head back to his family's farm outside of town, and I had to go and find my uncle, but we agreed to meet back up at the front gates the next day, to watch the final match. I felt alive with energy, pumped up by that glory of a fight, and I shut my brain off, letting my feet lead me where they would. My mind follows me through the crowds, the heat of the day seeping out of the ground and into the air as the sun sinks towards the horizon. There's a soft breeze in the air, just enough to dry the sweat on my face, and from time-to-time, I stop to read a sign, peer in a window, peruse a street vendors' wares. I'm actually in a pretty good mood, the best I've been in since leaving Omashu. Really, it's the best mood I've been in since I let go of Katara's hands, on a calm, cool, bright summer day. It seems like so long ago, that day. So long…

_Too long…_

I look up. I'm not entirely sure how I've gotten to where I'm standing, or even where I am, exactly. I know nothing about the layout of Gaoling, and even less about the path my feet had laid me. All I do know is that there, before me, is exactly where I want to be. Here, I can at least make sure I fulfill one of my promises. My eyes read the sign again, making absolutely sure I saw it right, before I give myself a nod and step inside the _Gaoling Book Emporium._

A bell rings as I open the door, and rings again as it closes behind me. I pause in the entryway, close my eyes, breath deep. The smell is delicious, the air filled with the musty, heavy scent of books and scrolls. I open my eyes, truly take in the store. It's of a decent size, but still manages to be cramped, every nook and cranny and space packed with overflowing bookshelves, the floor an intricate tapestry of interlocking tables covered with even more books and scrolls. The scent of books mixes with the faint whiff of pipe tobacco. I follow the trail of smoke over to its source, a bored-looking old woman, puffing lazily on a pipe almost as ancient as she is. She looks to me, eyes decidedly uninterested. I nod to her. She huffs and looks away. I can't help but smile, and then dive into the store.

It really is a treasure trove, exactly what I was hoping to find. It's a lot like this place I knew of in Omashu, only not currently nestled in the middle of a burgeoning military occupation. Sure, it's the kind of place where _organization_ is a dirty word, and no doubt asking the proprietor for assistance would be met with an amused cackle, but who cares? To me, the contents of this room are worth more than all the gold in the world, and not least because all the gold in the world wouldn't compare to watching Katara's eyes light up when she turns to a new page in a book.

I pause over a stack of books on one of the tables, my face set into a stupid little grin. My heart does a little flip at that image. With every book I pick up, I imagine sitting by that little shed in the South, my arm around Katara, her head nestled against my shoulder, the book propped up on her knees, her finger tracing the words. I find myself wondering if she'll still want to read to me when that day comes, no doubt in the not too distant future, when she doesn't need me to help her anymore.

_I hope she does…_

"I sure hope she's pretty."

For a moment, I'm so wrapped up in my fantasy, that I picture my mental image of Katara saying those words. Only the voice is all wrong; Katara's voice is strong and it can be fierce, but it's shot through with kindness and compassion and warmth. This voice, though, is all brute force, with a sprinkling of endless amusement. The language is all wrong, too, as evidenced by my first, rather strange thought, _Since when did Katara learn Guangzhou…?_ The stupidity of that statement makes me blink a few times, before shaking my head and looking over into a corner where, leaning precariously back in a rather unsafe-looking chair, is a petite teenage girl with bare feet, who looks strangely familiar, a cigarette dangling from her lips.

I tilt my head, no less enlightened. "Come again?"

She rolls her eyes, tapping a her foot on the ground. "Your heart just did a weird little flutter, and I'm pretty sure you're smiling. So, like I said, I hope she's pretty, whoever you're thinking about."

I stroll around the table until I'm standing right in front of her, leaning myself back against the edge. I cross my arms over my chest, and tilt my head, taking her in. I try to catch a glimpse of her eyes, but her hair is put up in a sloppy bun, held together by a strange sort of headband, which somehow allows thick swathes of hair to hang down and almost completely cover her eyes. I consider just kind of wandering away, but my attention has been grabbed, so I decide, after not nearly enough deliberation, to take the bait.

"Alright, I'll bite. How do you know all of that?"

She gives a strange little smirk. "What, don't care to deny it?"

I shrug. "Meh, why bother? A good catch is a good catch, and let's face it, you caught me. And, just so we're clear, yes, she is _very_ pretty."

She scoffs. It's unlike any scoff I've ever heard before. "Yeah, I just _bet_ she is."

It occurs to me that, in the course of this entire exchange, she's yet to actually…well…_look at me._ In fact, I get the strange feeling that she hasn't shifted from that position since I walked in, not even to, say, scratch her nose. How else to explain that a full third of her cigarette is precariously balanced ash?

"So," I say, picking up a random book and flipping through it, "you going to tell me how you figured all that out?"

She gives a very eloquent shrug. A few flakes of ash drop from her cigarette and settle on her shirt. She doesn't bother to brush them off.

"Meh, I could, but fuck that, you know? I think I'm more interested in what a Fire Nation noble is doing in the middle of gods-damn nowhere."

I purse my lips, flipping a few more pages in the book before setting it down and picking up another one. For some bizarre reason, I'm not in least bit surprised that she knows this. For a brief moment, I consider denying it, then decide, _To hell with it._

"You know," I say, doing nothing to hide my chagrin, "if you want me to answer questions, you're going to have to offer a few answers."

She snorts. "The fuck should I do that for?"

I shrug, frowning at the book in my hands, which is in some strange dialect of Guangzhou that I can't even _begin_ to decipher…either that, or the scribe has _horrifyingly_ shitty handwriting. "To keep my interest, of course."

She tilts her head slightly, as if to make sure she can hear me better. "And why should I give a shit if I keep your interest?"

I shut the book with a dramatic _thump_, set it down, and grab another. "Because I've caught your interest."

"Psh. What makes you think _that_, Lord Prissy-Pants?"

I arch an eyebrow. "I can't imagine that the Blind Bandit would waste much time on people who don't intrigue her."

For a moment, she's completely still, until, as if a switch has been flipped, she's moving the chair, sliding her feet into she's facing directly towards me. Along the way, she finally taps some of the ash off her cigarette, before sticking it back in her mouth and settling back into her previous, physically impossible and yet completely natural-looking position. She tilts her head to the other side, and behind those bangs I sense blinking. Finally, she shrugs, and says, "Good call. How did you guess?"

I start to gesture for her feet before I realize how stupid that is and change my mind. "The lack of footwear, mostly. That's a detail that sticks in the mind. I mean, I can't imagine that going into combat against giant fucking _rocks_ is a situation more people care to face with bare feet."

She nods, as if mulling this over, before reaching up and shoving some of the hair out of her eyes. It's not until then that I actually believe that she truly is…well…_blind_. Before that, I was pretty sure that it was all a gimmick, a part of her fighting persona, but the fact is that I was looking at her eyes, just then, and they were obviously the eyes of a blind person. They were pale and murky, somewhere between grey and white, with a limp, dead quality to them that one only find in things that aren't used. Despite that, though, I couldn't help but notice just how _alive_ they seemed, as if, somewhere beyond the swirling darkness within, life sparkled, shining forth as clear as the noon-day sun.

"So," she says, "it's official, you caught me. Any thoughts so far?"

I shrug, return to flipping through the book. "Mostly that I'm surprised you're actually blind."

She scoffs. "As _if_. Depends on how you define _blind_, really."

I mull that over. "I suppose. So, what was your question again?"

"What the fuck a Fire Nation noble was doing in the middle of gods-damn nowhere."

"Ah, right. Well…I won't deny that I'm Fire Nation, because why bother, but…what makes you think I'm noble-born?"

She huffs, as if exasperated by my stupidity. I get the strangely comforting feeling that she spends most of her time being annoyed by other people's stupidity. "The accent, numb-nuts. Only someone with an upper-class education would be able to speak that well."

"Maybe…or maybe I was a servant, and spent a lot of time around nobles. Did you think of that?"

She rolls her eyes. I'm not entirely sure _how_, only she does. "I did, but then I rejected it because it was fucking retarded." She points at the book in my hand, or at least in the vague direction. "After all, most servants don't read well enough to hang out in bookstores."

"True…but then again, blind people don't typically hang out in bookstores, either."

She chuckles. "Yeah, but I'm not your typical blind person."

I raise a finger, I'm not entirely sure why. I could just close my eyes and imagine talking to a anthropomorphic turtle-duck, for all the physical interaction that's required of me in a situation like this, but, as they say, old habits die hard. "And maybe I'm not your typical servant."

She laughs. It's a rather pleasant sound, light and carefree. Only someone who genuinely doesn't give a flying _fuck_ about what people think of them can laugh like that. I find myself envying it immediately. "Well, you're definitely not a typical noble, that's for sure, of any nation."

I bow my head. "Many thanks, my lady."

She gives a little start, like a jolt running through her body. _"Lady?!_ I'm no fucking lady!"

I shrug. "Definitely not, but you're noble-born yourself, that's for sure." As she starts to open her mouth, I cut her off, saying, "You're not the only one who can pick up on an accent, my dear."

She opens her mouth, obviously all set to deny it, then closes her mouth. She opens and closes her mouth a few more times, before shrugging, stubbing out her cigarette on the ground, and giving me a smile.

"You're good, buddy, you know that? Way too smart for your own good, that's for sure."

I laugh. "That's what my father always told me."

"Heh, I bet. Still…" She considers something for a few moments, before giving another one of her absurdly eloquent shrugs and hurling herself to her feet. She takes a step or two towards me, stops, and gives a silly little bow. "Toph Bei Fong, at your service."

I resist the urge to pop an eyebrow, before returning her bow. "A pleasure to meet you, Toph. I'm Murakami Haruki."

She scoffs. "Oh, really, that's the best you can do? You're totally fucking lying."

I shrug. "Of course I am. But I'm not just going to drop my real name when I barely know you."

She tilts her head. "I did."

"Yeah, sure, but this is _your_ neck of the woods, while it is most definitely not mine."

She mulls this over before nodding and saying, "Alright, point taken." She waves a hand, as if done with the conversation. "So, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Looking for someone."

She perks up an ear, before giving a subtle nod. "Alright, that's the truth. Not the _whole_ truth, but the truth nonetheless."

I turn around to the table behind me, and begin riffling through the books and the scrolls in earnest. "You can tell when people are lying?"

She points at her feet. "Fringe benefit of blind earthbending. It's pretty handy."

I give an appreciative nod. "I can imagine. I bet no one tries to cheat you more than once."

She laughs. "Eh, sometimes I let them cheat me more than once, to see how long it takes them to catch on that I know what they're up to. The look on their faces is typically pretty priceless."

I arch an eyebrow at her. "Do you do that often?"

"Do what?" she says in an innocent voice.

"Try to trick people into thinking you can see by casually talking like you can?"

She sighs and clucks her tongue. "Like I said, too fucking smart for your own fucking good." She waves a hand at the table. "What exactly are you looking for, anyways?"

I sigh, riffling through the last few items. "Books in Suomi."

Her eyes go wide at that. "Wait…your girlfriend's Water Tribe?"

I turn to her. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

She shrugs. "Nothing, I guess, it's just that, from what I hear, relations between your two peoples isn't exactly _smooth_."

"True," I say, turning back to the table, "but, just as I'm not a typical noble, and you're not a typical blind person, I'm not also not typical Fire Nation." A smile creeps across my face, and a warm feeling prickles in my chest. "And she's not typical…well…_anything…_"

Toph sighs heavily and groans. "Oh, _for fuck's sake_, do you _mind?_"

I blink in confusion. "Mind what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Your heart just did this _really fucking annoying_ little…I dunno…_tap-tap-flutter_ thing. I fucking _hate_ it when people do that. It's frustrating."

I shrug, feeling slightly flustered. "Ah…I can see how that would be…" I cough into my hand. _"Anyways…"_

She nods, quite emphatically. "Yeah, _anyways._" She jerks a thumb towards another part of the store. "Also, the foreign language books are all shoved in the back. You'll only find shit in Earth Kingdom languages in here."

I nod, say, "Ah, right, thanks," and I'm just about to head into the part of the store she indicated when I stop, turning on my heels to face her. "That reminds me…how does a blind girl know so much about a bookstore?"

She shrugs. "Meh, I hang out here a lot."

"Ah…of course you do…dare I ask why?"

Another shrug, followed by a wave of the hand. "Because it amuses me, mostly."

I can't help but laugh. "Of course it does. Somehow that is…the least surprising part of this conversation."

She turns her head slightly, casting a look over her shoulder. That's the most disorienting part of talking to her, really, the way she always manages to look in your general direction. Sure, she never _quite_ gets the exact location right, but it's still slightly disconcerting, at least until you start to get used to it.

"Really?" she says, voice soft and low, in a tone that's almost…well…_girly._

I blink at the tone, but press on. "Yeah, I mean…it fits." I mull it over a little longer, before nodding once more. "In fact, I like it. Can't say that I _get it_, but I like it." I turn back around, heading for the backroom. "Anyways, be right back."

In the room, I strike gold. When I exit again, about a half-hour later, I'm carrying about a half-dozen Suomi books, from low to moderate difficulty levels, along with a short, but potentially useful, Nihongo dictionary. Unfortunately, my search for a Suomi dictionary came up short, but at that time, I was still hopeful.

To be honest, I half-expected Toph to have just kind of…_wandered off _by that point. I definitely didn't expect her to be perched back in her chair, only this time, she was facing the room I was about to exit. She was back in her bizarrely precarious position, another cigarette dangling from her lips, and a strange, almost…_bemused_ expression her face.

I stop when I find her, and we regard each other for a bit before she speaks.

"So," she says, "is there any chance that I can get you to tell me your real name?"

I shrug, shifting the books around until they're settled a little more comfortable in my arms. "Sure. All you have to do is prove that I can trust you."

She purses her lips, nodding slowly. "Seems fair enough. I tell you what: You gamble much?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not."

She smiles. "Well, you should gamble tomorrow. I face the Boulder in the finals, and I'm going to win."

I tilt my head, arching an eyebrow. "I would imagine that you always win."

She scoffs. "Well, fucking _duh_, I would, but the thing is, if the same chick wins every year, then no one will want to come watch, right? So, for the past three tournaments, I've _choked_ in the final round. But eventually, you can only choke so many times before people catch on, so, tomorrow, I get to win."

I chuckle. "So, it really _is_ rigged?"

"Psh, of _course_ it fucking is. I mean, I'm still the best that there ever _was_, but I like competing more than I like winning, so I play along." She takes the cigarette out of her mouth, taps it a few times, before replacing it and carrying on. "Still, tomorrow, I get to win."

"I see. And how does the Boulder feel about that?"

"He feels just fine. He won the last two years, so he has to lose if he wants to keep people cheering for him." Suddenly, she drops the front two legs of the chair to the floor with a _thud_, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at me. "Point is, though, that you're one of the few people who knows this. Which means that the Boulder will be favored in the bets, which means that if you bet on me…"

I nod, a smile forming, realization dawning. "My uncle and I could stand to make a pretty penny."

She smiles, leans back in the chair. _"Exactly."_

I consider for a few minutes, then ask the obvious question. "And in exchange for this generosity, what do you get in return?"

Her smile turns wolf-like. It's a little disturbing to see.

"Two things." She ticks off a finger. "One, you tell me your real name."

I nod. "Alright, fair enough. And the next?"

"Heh…" She ticks off another finger. "And two? _You take me with you._"

I nod, slow and steady, before my face drops and my eyes go wide.

"Wait…_what?_"

* * *

Hey! It's Toph! Woo!

Alright, so, quick note about all of this: I'm probably not going to be able to update for about two weeks. I'm telling you guys this so you don't think I'm leaving you or abandoning the story or what-have-you. I am determined to never be one of _those_ fanfic writers; there will be no unfinished fiction in my profile!

But still, long story short, I'm a camp counselor during the summer, and I'll be doing my _camp counselor thing_ at two consecutive, back-to-back camps over the next two weeks, so, yeah, I will barely have access to my phone, much less a computer. So you guys are just going to have to be patient…alright?

Don't worry, I promise I'll be back. Never fear!

In the next chapter (when I have a chance to post it), Toph joins Zuko and Iroh, Zuko gets annoyed, and the trio exchange ostrich-horses with a kind peasant mother and her daughter, from whom they learn rather distressing news. Stay tuned! Please!


	20. Chapter 20

20. THE DAY AFTER THE BIG FIGHT, WE ALL MOUNT UP AND LEAVE. My uncle and I lead the way, hearts and bellies full, and feeling confidant for the first time since we landed in Omashu. Not only did my uncle manage to find out from a deserter the exact location of the Water Tribe army (somewhere on the southern arch of Chameleon Bay), but we set out with supplies replenished, some fresh, clean clothes, and coin purses jangling with well-earned coins. In short, as journeys across war-torn countrysides go, this one was going rather well.

The only potential issue was riding an ostrich-horse tethered to the back of my saddle, chattering away, as happy as a bird that has just been released from its cave.

Yup, Toph Bei Fong, the Blind Bandit, is tagging along. Hey, don't blame me, blame my uncle. The second he laid eyes on her, he was instantly smitten, lighting up like a little girl who just got a new kitten. And boy, did Toph take to him just as quickly. Ever since they met, they've been chattering away like two old ladies, as happy and carefree as one could be. He didn't even object to the girl's absurdly foul language, which irritated me to no end. I mean, what made _her_ so fucking special, right?

Okay, it wasn't _that_ bad. Still…it's just that, when I said Toph was chattering away, I meant that Toph and my _uncle_ were chattering away. And trust me, they talked about _everything._ Nothing was held back. By the end of the second day, not only did Toph know both _my_ entire life story, along with my uncle's, but we also knew hers. We knew that that she had pretty much run away from home at fourteen, when her father tried to confiscate her first Earth Rumble winnings and lock her in her room. After a few months of trying to get her to come back to the estate (which was apparently _enormous_), her parents had thrown in the towel and left her to her own devices. After that, she lived the life she'd always wanted, free as a bird, the town her oyster, the only thing holding her back being that no one was inclined to travel around with a crazy blind girl. That is, until she met _us._ There were all kinds of other discussions, too. For example:

"So, any handsome boys pining away for you right now?" That was my uncle, because of _course_ it was.

"Psh. _Please._ Like I bother with _them._"

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because I like pussy."

"Ah." _Beat._ "So, any pretty _girls_ pining away for you right now?"

"Well, there might be one. There's this particular girl, about my age, and she has, like, the _biggest_ fucking rack you've ever seen, and-"

I had to cut in there. "Wait…how would you know how big her…umm…_rack_ is?"

Toph scoffed (which seems to be her primary method of communication). "Please. I'm blind, but I'm not _that_ fucking blind. Anyways, as I was saying…"

And that's not even getting into when they decide to focus on _my_ personal life. That's really their favorite topic. It doesn't help that I've never really _had_ a personal life before, or at least one worth talking about (_Hey, Zuko, how're you feeling about your arranged marriage with someone you've never been in a room alone with this week, _isn't exactly a thrilling conversation starter), so I really have no idea how to handle it. Plus, there's this:

"So, Zuko, is she hot?" That's Toph.

I wish I could say that I wasn't blushing. I really do. "Is who hot?" I frowned at the sound of my voice. I sounded like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I believe," my uncle said in a helpful tone, "our new friend is asking about the Lady Katara."

Toph whistled. "_Ooooh_, so _that's_ her name, huh? _Pretty._ I like it."

I tightened my grip on the reins and speak through gritted teeth. "Do we _really_ have to do this right now?"

"Do what, nephew?" My uncle sighed happily. "We're just making conversation."

_"Like you've been doing for fucking __**days**__ now,"_ I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" My uncle asks, smiling.

_**"Nothing."**_

Toph scoffs. "You two are cute. But, as I was saying, _is she hot?_"

I roll my eyes. "What does that even mean?"

"I believe," my uncle says, "that our new friend is enquiring about the Lady Katara's physical attributes." He turns to Toph and shrugs. "Sometimes, I have to translate things for him. _Normal people speak_ is something he has difficulties with at times."

"No, it's just that I happen to like my privacy," I growl.

"Hey," Toph says, laughter hovering at the edge of her voice, "I'm not asking about whether she cups the balls when she's going down on you, I'm just asking if she's hot."

_"GAH!"_ I scream, throwing my hands up in the air.

"I believe," my uncle begins, chuckling, "that what our new friend is trying to say is-"

_**"I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU BELIEVE OR WHAT SHE'S TRYING TO SAY JUST **__**STOP**__**!"**_

My uncle clucks his tongue. "Such language. I really am sorry, my dear."

Toph shrugs. "It's okay. He just lost control of himself for a moment."

_**"ARGH!"**_

And so on. By the end of the week, I was about ready to hurl myself off a cliff. Sadly, there were none handy, though I'm sure Toph would've made one for me, not because she didn't like me (she seemed to see me as the big cuddly dork of a brother she never had), but because she would've been curious as to whether she could just create a giant-ass cliff out of thin air. I'm pretty sure she could. I seriously consider asking more than once.

Thus, when we come upon the farm, I almost faint with relief. For one thing, a farm means strangers, which means that the _Dynamic Fucking Duo_ tend to shut the fuck up for a bit, and for another thing, it means that I'll have someone _else_ to talk to for a few minutes. Someone who doesn't encourage my uncle to belt out dirty songs. Someone who isn't interested in what size Katara's boobs are. _Someone other than my uncle and the Blind Fucking Bandit._

I've about had enough at this point, in case it's hard to tell.

The farm is a small one, stretching out along the side of the winding road we've been following, a few small fields of rice radiating out from a small house just off the road. The house itself is modest, but well-maintained, a single-story building of thin wood and rice-paper walls and gaping openings for windows. As we approach, a young girl steps outside carrying a basket, heading for a fenced-in enclosure from which we can hear chickens clucking. She's just started tossing what looks like grain to the chickens when we pull up. She turns slowly, regarding us from beneath her broad peasant's straw hat. Her face is hidden in shadow, but her bearing is calm, composed. She doesn't look the least bit frightened of us. We all regard each other for a few moments, before she turns and shouts something into the house in a language I don't understand. There's a shout back, and then the front door opens, and an older woman steps out. The two talk to each other for a moments, continuing in the strange language, while I turn to my uncle and tilt my head towards them. He shrugs, shaking his head, and then we both turn to Toph.

Toph just shrugs. "Don't look at me, I don't understand a fucking word." She reaches up, pulls at the collar of her tunic. All three of us are sweat-streaked and travel-stained; it really is monstrously hot. "Northern peasant dialects weren't covered very well in my education."

At the sound of Toph's voice, the girl by the chicken coop tilts her hat back, letting it hang from her neck by the chin-strap. She's very cute, with big brown eyes and long, dark brown hair. Her body is thin, but with the wiry strength that only rural folk seem able to possess. She chews her lip for a moment, her nose scrunched up, as if she's trying to think of something to say. Finally, in a voice thick and halting, she says, "You speak Guangzhou?"

My uncle breaks out his ever-winning smile, and gives a shallow bow from his saddle. "We do, my lady."

She nods slowly, comprehension slowly crawling across her face. "You from…umm…south?"

My uncle nods, his smile growing. "We are, my lady." He taps his chest. "I'm Murakami Kobe, and this," he continues, "is my nephew, Murakami Haruki." I bow at my _name_.

Her mouth curves into a slight frown. I tighten my grip on the reins, and try hard to keep the disappointment from showing in my face. Her expression is one I've seen far too much over the past few weeks.

"You are…" She snaps her fingers in the air, struggling for the words, "umm…_Fire Nation?_"

My uncle moderates his smile. He really is a master at such things. I'm going to have to ask him to teach me sometime. "I'm afraid so, my lady, but please, don't hold that against us."

Her eyes are uncomprehending. She looks to the woman who is obviously her mother, who shrugs, then back to us, her mouth curved into something between a disapproving frown and a polite smile. My uncle opens his mouth to try again, before I cut it, saying, "We're deserters, my lady."

She nods, says, "_Deserters…?"_

I sigh. A week spent listening to my uncle and Toph jabber away at each other really has dealt a heavy blow to what little patience I have. "We ran away from the army."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do, the frown disappears completely. She flashes us a coy smile, nodding, before turning to her mother and, I presume, passing the information along. Her mother lets out a sigh of relief, clapping her hands together and stepping down off the front porch to join us. My uncle and I dismount, and he walks up to make formal introductions while I walk back to help Toph down from the saddle. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she lets out an almost obscene sigh of relief, wriggling her toes in the dirt and smiling like a little girl who just got a puppy. That done, she reaches over and gives me a light punch in the arm. "So," she says, "tell me if I'm wrong, but that peasant girl sounds totally _hot_."

I roll my eyes and pinch my nose. "For fuck's sake, Toph…"

She shrugs. "Hey, I'm only human. Think she digs chicks?"

I'm already walking away. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

She smiles, following my lead. "Oh, I will, and you better fucking believe it."

I shake my head. "I do," I mutter to myself.

We end up sharing a cup of tea with our new acquaintances. I'm eager to press on, but my companions insist, though for slightly different reasons (_I hope_). We all kneel in a rough sort of circle, sipping politely from worn and chipped tea cups. Communication is slow and halting, and the language barrier is troublesome, to say the least, but the daughter is bright young girl and my uncle is a fountain of patience and wisdom and, after a few awkward pauses, a workable system develops.

The family, we learn, are the Yins, the daughter's name being Song and the mother's name being Huan. The daughter is about Katara's age, twenty or twenty-one, and the mother is about twice that. The farm belonged to the father, who was killed some time before in the war. There's an older brother, too, but he's off in the army, a piece of news that causes Song to fall silent, a coldness flashing across her eyes before she shakes it away and offers me more tea.

We do our best to repay this openness. We share as much of our backgrounds as we feel is appropriate, repeating our usual cover stories of my uncle and I being deserters (which isn't all that much of a lie, to be honest), explaining that Toph, who in this situation we refer to as _Jinghua_, is basically just a fellow traveler we picked up on the road. It ends up being a conversation that I do my best to sit out. Song and Huan are the first two genuinely kind and friendly individuals we've met since we left Gaoling. They are bright, caring, warm, and truly kind-hearted. Lying to them leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a taste that the tea does nothing to dispel. I find myself spending much of the time staring into the depths of my cup, thinking on happier things and brighter times.

_The South feels very far away…_

"So," Song says, "you come from south?"

My uncle nods. "We do. We lived in Omashu for several years."

Song nods, and her ever-present smile falters. "So, is true? Omashu…fall?"

My uncle frowns into his beard. "I'm afraid…is true, my lady." He sighs, swirls the tea around in his cup. "That is why we left."

Song sighs, shakes her head. She says something to her mother, whose face turns pale. Song turns back to us, eyes sad and full of sorrow. "Then, is over."

My uncle blinks in confusion, while Toph leans forward, suddenly shaken out of wherever her mind was wandering. "What is over?"

Song reaches up, brushes something out of her eye. "War. Is over."

I look up from my tea. "How…why do you say that?"

She looks up at me, a soft, painfully sad smile on her face. I find myself wondering what it would have been like to meet this family, years before, in my youth. I picture the angry, bitter young fool I was then, and I'm suddenly very glad that I'm not that boy anymore.

When she speaks again, her voice is thick and cracked. "You…you not know?"

I shake my head. "Know what?"

Song takes a deep, watery breath. "The Emperor is gone."

To say that that piece of information rendered us speechless would be a bit of understatement. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room in one mighty _whoosh_. My uncle freezes completely, his tea cup trapped halfway between the saucer in one hand and his mouth. Toph actually gasps, eyes wide and full of confusion. My own mind goes completely blank. I honestly have no idea what to say. All I can see is a wall of white, echoes in the empty space of what was once my brain, while a strange rushing sound, like the sea in a storm, roars to a crescendo in my ears.

I don't know how long we would've sat there, my uncle and I, our mouths hanging open like fish thrown from the sea, if Toph hadn't managed to compose herself.

"What..." She fumbles, shakes her head, tries again. Her voice is small and filled with fear. It's the most disturbing thing about this entire exchange. "What…what do you _mean?_"

Song sets her tea down, sighs heavily, her shoulders shifting up and down as if she was a puppet on a faulty string. "I…I not _sure_, but, few days ago, rider come. He head for sea, he say, come from Ba Sing Se. He tell us that war over, that…that…" She frowns, looks back to us. "You know _Dai Li?_"

Toph leans back, wrapping her arms around her torso, an ugly look on her face. "Yeah, I know the fucking Dai Li." She looks to my uncle and me. "Do you two?"

I look to my uncle, who's still frozen in shock, before saying, "Yeah, I know the Dai Li. We all do." The words rattle around in my skull. _Dai Li_. My grip tightens on my teacup. _The Earth King's secret police._ They had ostensibly been formed to protect the Earth Kingdom's culture and traditions, but they had long since left that task behind. Under strong Emperors, they were feared by all except the Emperor himself. Under weak Emperors, well…_they were just feared by all._

I shake the thoughts from my head. "What about the Dai Li?"

Song grimaces. "Man say, after Omashu fall, Dai Li betray Emperor. Army fight them. Emperor…" She bows her head. "Emperor dead."

Without another word, Toph stands, turns on her heel, and walks off the porch. This action seems to snap my uncle out of his coma, and he joins me in turning to watch our new friend. Still not speaking, Toph walks out into the yard, reaches up, and undoes her hair, letting it fall straight and loose down her back. She reaches down, grabs a pinch of dirt, and streaks it across her forehead. Then she falls to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground, bowing in a way that someone of her station would only do towards the Emperor himself. My uncle and I watch, while, across from us, Song and her mother do the same as Toph, bowing to the ground, foreheads pressed to the floor. The three Earth Kingdom natives straighten their backs without rising, then bow again, repeating the process once more before chanting something in Guānhuà, the official Imperial dialect. My uncle and I are fluent, of course, but I, at least, decline to translate what is said, out of respect. I'm sure my uncle does the same.

When Toph finally returns to the porch, her face is drawn and grim. "Well then," she says, before taking up her cup once more and sipping.

There's really not much more to be said.

We leave not long after. We thank Song and her mother for their hospitality, and my uncle tries to give them something in exchange, but neither will hear anything of it, waving us off and sending us on our way. We don't bother to look back.

_There's really no time…_

* * *

Hey, look at that, I'm back! Woo!

So, I'm not particularly _happy_ with this chapter, and to be honest, if you guys skip it, I'm not going to be upset. It was written in chunks and fragments over the course of the past two weeks, and like I said, I'm not terribly pleased with the result, mostly because that choppy process _shows_. However, I really want to move on with the story, so, fuck it, I'm going to plow through this, take a shower, and then get cracking once more.

In the next chapter (which will be better, I promise), our little trio tries to come to grips with how the world is falling apart around them. Stay tuned!

PS – You guys are great. Thanks for all the good vibes!


	21. Chapter 21

So, funny thing, I totally forgot Toph was blind for a bit in this chapter. I pretty much pulled a Sokka. Congrats to BeakerPD for catching that for me. But I fixed it! Woo!

* * *

21. "YOU KNOW," TOPH SAYS, "I MET HIM ONCE."

We're in a small clearing, just far enough away from the road so that the light of our fire can't be seen. It's been about two days since we stopped at the farm. In all that time, we haven't said much, just rode in silence, heavy and thick. That night, the world is soft and cool. It's been raining all day, only stopping about an hour before we finally decide to stop for the night. It feels good, the rain. For weeks now, my world has been defined by dust and heat and sweat and humidity. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to taste something other than dirt in my mouth. Now, though, the world feels fresh and clean, newly washed, sparkling in the dying sunlight. All around us, the trees bend and sway and whisper to each other. A bird flutters from branch-to-branch. The ostrich-horses snort and paw at the ground.

_It's downright peaceful…_

When Toph speaks, she's sitting on a rock, munching on a piece of jerky. My uncle and I are doing our best to make our makeshift campsite somewhat tolerable to sleep in. He's stomping around, heating his feet in such a way as to dry the ground out a bit, while I'm doing the same thing with my hands, making slow, steady passes over our clothes and sleeping rolls. I'm so intent on my task that for a moment, I don't even notice that Toph has said something. It takes a bit for the words to penetrate my skull and work their way into my mind. When they do, I pull my hand away and look to her.

"What was that?"

She sighs, tearing off a fresh bite of jerky. "I said, I met him once."

I nod, not really following. "Ah…I see…who?"

She rolls her eyes. "The fucking Emperor, of course. Who else would I be talking about?"

I shrug, return to my task. "Knowing you? Literally anyone."

She laughs. "Alright, point. Still, yeah, I met the guy once."

I let heat bleed off my hand, before patting the sleeping roll. I nod to myself, satisfied. It's not perfect – there's still a faint hint of damp to the cloth – but it's better than what it was before. "Right on. When was this?"

She looks up at the sky, or at least what we can see of it through the trees. The night is gathering with great speed, rolling in and bleeding out from the horizon. Scattered stars twinkle from between thin shreds of clouds, and all around, insects buzz and chirp and rattle.

"Oh," she replies, speaking around a half-chewed hunk of jerky, "about…five years ago or so, when I was…what…eleven?" She nods to herself. "Yeah, eleven."

I begin laying out the sleeping rolls in a sort of triangle, each roll forming a side, careful to roll them out on ground my uncle has dried. "You know, I'm trying to imagine you as a little kid, but it's downright impossible."

Toph scoffs. "I know, right? Even I have difficulty picturing it."

I shake my head, and begin drying out the blankets. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my uncle riffling through his pack, pulling out his little mobile tea kit. "I just have this mental picture of you in diapers, telling your nanny to go suck a dick." I allow myself a little chuckle. "But, as you were saying…"

"Ah, right. So yeah, when I was eleven, my parents got it into their heads that, given their incredible wealth and power, the only place to find a truly suitable match for me would be in Ba Sing Se. Though, really, if you ask me," she continues, smiling softly to herself, "it had as much to do with the fact that it was my parents' twentieth wedding anniversary as it did with anything else."

"Your parents genuinely liked each other?" my uncle says, settling down by the fire and beginning the (for him) complex process of brewing tea.

Toph laughs. "Oh yeah, _a lot_." She tilts her head to the side, a wistful look on her face. "It was kind of annoying at times, to tell you the truth. All the other kids got to play their parents off against each other, but not _me_. Oh no, I had to deal with a united front every damn day."

I take in her expression, which is of a kind that I've never even imagined could possibly exist on her face. "You liked your parents, didn't you?"

She shakes her head. "Yes and no. I _loved_ them, don't get me wrong, but…_liked?_" She sighs. "That's more complicated. We just didn't...we just never _got_ each other. They really wanted me to be one way, and I just…_wasn't_." She sighs again, a little more heavily this time. "Like I've said, they aren't _evil_, just…well…they just weren't the right parents for me."

My uncle laughs. "I don't think _anyone_ would be the right parents for you, my dear."

Toph scoffs. "I dunno, you two seem to be doing a pretty good job."

"I thought I was more you big, goofy brother?" I observe.

She laughs. "That, too. Anyways, but yeah, while we were there, we went to the Palace. My mom had always wanted to see it, so my dad called in a few favors and got us an audience with the Emperor and an invitation to some big shindig. Thus, one day, I got stuffed into some gods-awful dress and found myself waddling into the throne room. We had to enter on our knees, even my dad, which was a little strange to see. We inched our way in, eyes averted to the ground, of course, while we were announced and all that. Then someone blew a trumpet, and we pressed our heads to the floor, and we chanted this ridiculous ritual greeting or some-such and waited until the Emperor's whatever commanded us to rise. We still had to stay on our knees, of course, but the point is, I got to look up and, there before me, was the fucking Emperor of the Earth Kingdom."

I lay down the last blanket and settle myself on top of my sleeping roll. I reach into my pocket, pull out my cigarettes, and light one up, positioning myself to I can both watch my uncle prepare the tea and watch Toph on her rock. "So," I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me, "what was he like?"

Toph shrugs. "I'm really not sure. I mean, for one thing, I couldn't actually _see _him, but, when my mother gave me the play-by-play later, I remember being, well…_disappointed._ He didn't look at all like what I had imagined the Emperor to look like. He was really young, that threw me off, I could tell that right away, like, twenty or so, and thin as a rail, with these thick, round glasses perched on the end of his nose. He looked like a kid playing dress-up with his dad's clothes, as my mom put it, and his throne seemed like it was about to swallow him whole. He just didn't…_he didn't fit_, if that makes sense, not from what my mom said later, or from what I could sense right there, and, thing is, what I knew, right there, is that he just didn't seem to have the...I dunno..._heartbeat_ of an Emperor." She sighs, swallowing the last bite of her jerky. "I just got this weird impression that he'd look better huddled behind some books in a library than ruling a nation, at least from what my mother told me."

My uncle nods, moving back from the fire to let the tea steep and pulling out his pipe. "That was my impression, as well."

Toph pops an eyebrow. "You met him, too?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, when I was besieging Ba Sing Se."

Toph's eyes go wide. "Oh, you're _that_ Iroh."

My uncle frowns. "Yes, I am, or at least, I was." He gives her an apologetic look. "Please don't hold that against me."

Toph waves the idea away. "Hey, nobody's perfect. But yeah, you were saying?"

My uncle shrugs, taking a contemplative puff on his pipe. "Well, I didn't get as good a look as you did, my dear. I only saw him from far away, through my field glasses, and he was very young then, barely eight or nine, but from what I saw, he looked like a bookish sort, a very kind soul, not really Emperor material."

I turn my gaze to the fire, watching it crackle and pop, the tongues of flame licking at the bottom of the tea kettle. "And now he's gone."

My uncle nods, a sad look on his face. "Yes, now he's gone."

"May the gods have mercy on his soul," Toph says.

We sit in a brooding-sort of silence for a time after that, my uncle and I watching the tea kettle and Toph looking off into whatever it is that she sees. Finally, the kettle begins to whistle, and I snatch it off the flames and carefully pour out three cups before settling the kettle back on the fire. Toph hops down off her rock and joins us at the fire, sprawling out atop her sleeping roll and taking the cup that I offer her. We all take a few sips, watching the flames dance in the gathering darkness.

I don't know what was going on in the others' minds, but I know what was going on in mine, or at least, I think I do. The easiest way to describe it would be to say that I was deeply confused. All my life, up until I was eighteen-years-old, I was raised to believe in the supremacy of the Fire Nation, in the strength and the will of my people, and how that very strength and that very will were what made us the rightful rulers of the world. This pride, this idea of honor, of might making right, had been my bread and my butter from birth. As my father's only son, I had been raised with one goal in mind, and only one, that being that, someday, I would take my place as leader of the world, or at least of the Fire Nation, which was the same thing. I had been surrounded constantly be the reminders of our strength, our courage, our _perfection._ No nation was as great as the Fire Nation, and, for most of my life, I believed this with all my heart.

And yet…

_And yet…_

Here, heading into my fifth year in exile, victory seemed to finally be at hand. Most of the world had either come to terms with my father, the Fire Lord, or was ruled directly by him, or was in the process of becoming either one of the two. Everywhere I cared to look, my people's armies marched beneath crimson banners and carried all before them. Even the mighty Earth Kingdom, for so long seemingly unbeatable, unconquerable, was finally breaking before our might. I should be happy, I know that. I should've been filled with glee and pride and a warm sense of accomplishment. I should be basking in the glory of my nation's triumph, and my eyes should be shining with proud tears.

_But that's not how I felt…_

_ No, I felt…I felt…_

_**I felt empty and cold…**_

"What is this happening?"

It's not until I notice that the others have turned to face me that I realize that I've just spoken out loud. I struggle against the urge to redden under their attention, taking a calming sip of tea before clearing my throat and saying, once more, in what I hope is a stronger voice, "I just…I mean…_what is this happening?_ Why now, of all times?"

"That's a good fucking question," Toph says, swirling tea around in her cup.

My uncle sighs. "It's a good question, yes, but I'm afraid it's a question with an easy answer."

"Really?" I say, unable to keep a note of incredulity out of my voice. Out of nowhere, a strange urge to lash out at the world snarls to life deep in my chest. I feel angry, confused, lonely, heartbroken, like a piece of word drifting in the sea. I bite down on the sensation, but that only seems to make it grow stronger. "Forgive me if I don't see it that way."

Toph nods, her glassy eyes dancing with the fire. "I'm with Zuko on this one. It seems a pretty complicated issue."

My uncle sighs, shaking his head. "Ah, the folly of youth, always trying to make simple things complicated."

I lean forward, stabbing my cigarette into the air. "But, that's the thing, it _is_ complicated. There are a thousand and one reasons why the war is going the way it is right now."

"Ah," my uncle says, raising his finger in the air, "but there's only one reason why it's going the exact way it is right _now_."

"And what," Toph says, a tone of annoyance creeping into her voice, "is _that_, pray tell."

My uncle takes a depth breath, and then says two words, and only two, but they're enough.

_"The Avatar."_

The words echo in the night like rocks dropped in an empty pail. I set my cup down, pull my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms around my chin. My uncle puffs on his pipe. Toph just kind of _stares_. The silence is deafening. The fire pops and cracks in the quiet. Nobody moves for what feels like a long time. Nobody moves, nobody breathes. The world is falling to pieces around us, but here, in this little circle, there is calm, and there is silence.

_And, suddenly, there is despair…_

I find myself thinking of Katara. I miss her desperately, just then. Somehow, I can't help but feel that she would be able to bring clarity to the gloom.

Finally, Toph speaks. "The fuck does that even _mean?_"

My uncle sighs. "It means, my dear, that without the Avatar, there is no hope." He takes a long puff on his pipe, letting the smoke billow softly into the night, mixing with the faint wisps of smoke from the fire. "You see, the Avatar has always meant more than just that _there's someone in the world who can bend all four elements._ The Avatar is the living, breathing embodiment of the spirit of the Earth itself, and thus, they are the living, breathing embodiment of that idea that there _will_ be a world, a future, that life will go on. The Avatar represents that there is a way past all our conflict, that the four elements, and, by extension, the four _peoples_, can somehow, someway, _someday_, find a way to live in peace and harmony. That we can come together, and not only that we _can_ come together, but we _should_." He pauses, lets out a long, shaky breath, before continuing, his voice soft and fragile. "But without the Avatar, all of that goes away. Without the Avatar, there is, quite simply, no promise of a future worth fighting for."

He looks up, looks into our eyes.

"And that is why the world is coming to pieces around us. Without the Avatar to unite us, to give us hope, to give a promise of a future worth living in, then it is inevitable that the person with the strongest vision of the future will conquer all the others."

Toph nods, slow and steady. "But, what if that person happens to be an asshole?" She turns to me. "No offense, Sparky."

I shrug. "None taken. But, it's a valid argument. What if the person with the strongest vision of the future is an asshole?"

My uncle sighs. "Then, my young friends, I'm afraid that we're all a bit fucked."

In the past almost five years, I have seen a lot of things. I have watched as I went from an angry little boy, raging at the world, and grew into something like a young man, no longer afraid of his own reflection. I have watched my uncle, the Dragon of the West, turned his back on the nation that he spent a lifetime defending and fighting for and turned into a chuckling, cheerful old man, concerned only for his too-serious nephew. I have seen the polar lights on a cold winter night, and watched icebergs larger than any ship afloat slice silently through seas as calm and still as glass. I have both seen men die and made them die. I have seen a pirate no older than I was shudder out his last breaths around the sword I had just impaled him with. I have seen a blind sixteen-year-old girl bend the earth as if she was a part of it. I have seen my sister, standing in my doorway, telling me that I'm going to die.

_I have seen the most beautiful woman I've ever known, tell me that she likes me, even though she has no reason to do so…_

But all of that pales in comparison to the fact that my uncle just said _fuck._

We ride harder than ever come morning. Even Toph offers no complaints.

* * *

_That_, ladies and gentlemen, was _much_ better. This chapter definitely kicks the shit out of the last one.

By the way, something I forgot to say in the last author's note: I mention a language called Guānhuà in that chapter. Basically, that is what _Mandarin Chinese_ is called in…well…_Mandarin Chinese._ The Earth Kingdom is basically a lot like China, especially Imperial China, in that the word _Chinese_ actually refers to a group of somewhat related languages, many of which are not mutually intelligible, but which are lumped together because a bunch of people in a country we call _China_ speak them, and because we Westerners can't be bothered to learn the difference.

Oh, and also because the current Chinese government is big on pretending that all of China is one big happy family, so of _course_ they all speak the same language, even though a Mandarin speaker from Beijing can understand a Mandarin speaker from, say, Yunnan about as well as I can understand someone from Bavaria. But that's neither here nor there.

In my last story, _A Different Path_, I made very clear that there was no way the Fire Nation was going to win. In that way, I defined _victory_ as _world conquest_. However, if _victory_ is defined as _world domination_, then the Fire Nation can _totally_ win, and, indeed, seemed on the verge of doing so, _until the Avatar came back on the scene._ As Iroh observes, the Avatar represents the future. No Avatar, no future, no force for all the various opponents to the Fire Nation to unite around. This an important idea. Please don't forget it.

In the next chapter, our little group finally makes contact with the Water Tribe army, and Zuko has a very nerve-wracking meeting with his girlfriend's dad. Stay tuned!

PS – I totally proposed to my girlfriend last weekend, and because, for some bizarre reason, she likes me as much as I like her, she totally said yes. So, there's that. *squeals*


	22. Chapter 22

22. IT'S ANOTHER WEEK BEFORE WE FINALLY MAKE IT TO the sea, AND EVEN THEN, IT TAKES US A FEW MORE DAYS TO FIND THE PEOPLE WE'RE LOOKING FOR. Though, to be honest, to say that we found them is a bit of a misnomer. It would be much more accurate to say that we blundered into them, while they were in the process of looking for us.

Perhaps I should explain.

Ba Sing Se sits on a huge river, that runs vaguely southeast all the way to the Eastern Sea, which cuts into the eastern reaches of the Earth Kingdom, forming a bit of a bowl that the Earth Kingdom seems to be trying to embrace on maps. Looking at map, the area looks a lot like a giant came along with a spoon and scooped out a chunk of the Earth Kingdom for a late night snack. At the top of this gulf is a comparatively small inlet, where the aforementioned river flows into the sea and forms a bit of a bay. The bay is almost completely sealed off from the outer ocean by two thin, hill-covered arms, while on the inside, rolling hills march right up to the shore, where they dissolve into a thin strip of warm, golden sand. This little inlet is Chameleon Bay, and this has been our destination all along.

But, as I said, we don't _quite_ get there as we originally planned.

When we finally hit the sea, it's something of a surprise. We've been traveling through a seemingly never-ending forest for quite some time at this point, and we're kind of stunned when, almost out of nowhere, the forest just kind of _ends_, turning into a long, steep ridge. We cross over the ridge, and find ourselves confronted with a roiling mass of humanity, packed in between the crest of the ridge and the sparkling ocean, which stretches off into the horizon, an endless carpet of diamonds glimmering in the afternoon sunlight. Before us, we find makeshift camp, loud and dirty, stinking of unwashed humanity, stretching off to either side of us. There is no order, and the air hums with tension, of chaos and panic barely held in check.

We ride slowly and carefully down the other side of the ridge, angling so that we slice through the outskirts of the camp. We pause a few times, finding out that it is not a military camp, but a civilian one, packed to over-flowing with refugees fleeing my father's advancing armies. From those we talk to, we hear nothing but conflicting reports and confusion. The Fire Nation is either a thousand miles away or just over the next hill, or both, or neither. The point is, these people are scared. Terror seeps from every pore, and hangs thick as a mist in the air. Everyone we see is tired, haggard, many dressed in rags and covered in filth. The desperation is palpable, so thick that it could be cut with a knife. It hurts my heart to see people reduced to this, beaten and broken down into pulp but the tide of a war turned against them, but all I can do is bury my heart and press on, my teeth grinding in my mouth, my heart sunk into an ice cold pool of slime in the bottom of my stomach.

_There's nothing I can do…_

I tell myself that over and over again. No, it doesn't help.

From that point on, the journey becomes one of unending misery, a ride through a boiling sea of suffering, a glimpse into the bowels of hell. Everywhere we look, the shore is crowded with the dispossessed. Most speak dialects we don't understand, but here and there we find people who speak at least an approximation of something we can understand. It seems that my father's armies have taken advantage of the chaos in Ba Sing Se to pour into the central regions of the Earth Kingdom, areas that were already full to bursting of refugees from those areas already under the Fire Nation's flag. That's where most of these people have come from, fleeing as far as they can go, with no idea of what to do next except wait.

We don't ask them what they're waiting for. It would seem cruel to ask.

It takes a full three days to break free of the sprawling camps, so many people are packed there along the shoreline. By the end of it, even Toph seems depressed. I find myself envying her, jealous of the fact that she doesn't have to actually _see_ what my uncle and I are forced to see. She doesn't have to see the emaciated children sitting in the dirt, covered in grime, while their mothers and their sisters bear their breasts and beg for food. She doesn't have to notice how few young men there are, and how the ones that _are_ present are missing arms and legs and eyes and ears and, if you look closely, _hope_.

But then I look back, and see her wiping tears from her eyes, and I can't help but wonder if maybe it's worse for her, locked away behind sightless eyes, trapped with only her imagination to keep her company. For one brief, mad moment, I'm so desperate to think of anything but the misery that envelops me that I almost ask her.

Fortunately, I shake the urge away. But the question nags at me, mostly, I think, because my brain is starving for distraction.

Even we've left the camps behind, the air of despair and desperation hangs off of us, pulsing from us in waves. We travel in a cloud of silence, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts. We ride for a day and a night like that, not really speaking, barely even looking at each other.

It's not until the next day that the silence is broken. Characteristically, it's broken by Toph.

"Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"Why didn't your girl come with you?"

I sigh, rolling my eyes. I look exasperated, I'm sure, but to be honest, I'm glad that she decided to open up with this topic. Even a return to her and my uncle trading off teasing me would be preferable to the leaden silence we've been moving in.

"For one thing, she's not _my girl_, she's a woman, and her name is Katara."

Toph groans. "Fucking _fine_, why didn't _Katara_, Ms. _I'm Awesome Even Though My Boyfriend won't Tell Innocent, Perfect Little Toph About My Boobs_, come with you?"

"Well, actually," my uncle says, smiling for the first time in days, "she wanted to, and my nephew was more than willing to have her on the ship, but her tribe asked that she stay."

"Oh?" Toph takes a moment to stick a finger in her ear, scratching deep at some invisible itch, before saying, "And why was that? Isn't her brother the one who was left in charge?"

"Kind of," I say, "but the tribe considers them to _both_ be in charge in their father's absence. And since Sokka, as good of a guy as he is, isn't exactly the most _level-headed_ individual in the world, it just made what elders remain sleep better at night if Katara stayed." I heave a bit of a petulant sigh. I won't lie, I'm playing it up. I'm pretty much fishing for the teasing at this point, my desire for distraction is so strong.

"Huh," though, is Toph's only comment. "That says a lot about her."

I nod. "It does. In fact-"

I blink. The world is spinning around my head. My ears are ringing. A strange, burning sensation is spreading from the back of my head. I blink again, look around, the world blurring back into focus. I start to pull myself up. With a shock, I realize that I'm lying on the ground. All around me, there's shouting, words bellowed in a language that, at first, I don't recognize. I hear Toph's voice, confused, furious, and my uncle, shouting in Nihongo, asking if I'm alright. Suddenly, a man steps into frame. His skin is dark, his arm a faded blue, his hair done up in a style I vaguely recognize. I blink at him. There seem to be two, _or maybe three?_ No, just two of him. He plants a foot on my chest, and before I really understand what's happening, there's a spear leveled at my throat.

For a split second, I almost give into my instincts. My fists ball up, heat pulsing down my arms and into my fingers. Steam starts to billow from my hands. Out of the corner of my vision, I can see dark figures clad in blue, leveling spears and swords at Toph, who is screaming a litany of curses that is shocking in its inventiveness. From the other side of the beach, hidden by the ostrich-horses, I hear the sounds of struggle, hear my uncle demanding that he be unhanded, still asking if I'm alright.

The spear jabs at my throat, pricks my skin. The warrior above me is shouting, giving me a command. I hear the words, listen to the sounds, let the garbled gibberish coalesce into something that I understand. I blink one more time, and the world snaps into focus.

_"Lopeta!"_

The word pops into my brain and, without pause, springs from my mouth. The warrior stops his jabbing, blinks, shakes his head, confused. I see my chance, and begin babbling in my best Suomi.

_"Olemme ystäviä! Haluamme vain nähdä päällikkö!" We're friends! We just want to see the chief!_

Toph stops shouting and fighting for a moment. _"Zuko! The fuck are you saying?! Who the fuck are these assholes?!"_

I keep my eyes locked on the warrior above me, and shout out of the side of my mouth, "It's okay, Toph, they're Water Tribe."

I don't have to see her to know that she's tilting her head, glaring at the men around her in anger. "Wait, _these_ fuckers are the guys we're looking for?"

"Well," I say, keeping a smile on my face, my expression calm and still, "it does make sense that they would be a little…well…_tense._"

"That's nice," comes the reply, thick with scorn, "but they still need to get the fuck away from me!"

I re-focus on the warrior. _"Meillä tarkoita pahaa. Lupaan. Haluamme vain nähdä Hakoda." We mean no harm. I promise. We just want to see Hakoda._

Before the warrior can answer, my uncle's voice cuts through the air. "Zuko! Is that you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, uncle! I promise!"

The warrior loosens his grip on his spear for a moment. His face is guarded, his expression tense. _"Mistä tiedät Hakoda?" How do you know Hakoda?_

Keeping my smile, doing my best not to let him see that my heart is thudding away in my throat, that my mouth is dry and that, just a moment before, I was a few moments from blasting the man above me into a cinder, I slowly, carefully, reach into my tunic. _"Olen ystäviä lastensa kanssa." I'm friends with his children. _I pull Katara's letter from the place where I've stashed it, hold it out to him. _"Minulla on viesti heiltä." I have a message from them._

He glares at the scroll for a few seconds, before nodding at someone I can't see. Another warrior steps into my view, leaning over and snatching the scroll. He unrolls it, gives it a once-over. I watch his eyes, and it's easy to see that either he can't read, or he can't read very well. It doesn't matter, though, if he can read _just enough_ to see that I'm telling the truth, that the letter is in Suomi and it's signed by someone named _Katara_. After what feels like an unreasonable amount of time, this second warrior nods, rolls the letter back up, and leans over, muttering something in my new best friend's ear. That particular individual nods, pulls his spear back, and finally takes his foot off my chest. I wait for a moment, see that no one's going to help me, and then, carefully, gingerly, heave myself off the ground.

I instantly regret it. The world spins for a moment, and I almost fall back down. Fortunately, my uncle has broken free of whoever's holding him and catches me, helping me to stay standing. He leans in close, whispers, _"Are you alright, nephew?"_

I nod, rubbing the back of my head. "Yeah, I'm fine. I guess they just hit me harder than I thought they did." I shake myself off, square my shoulders, and do my very best to look like I know what I'm doing. _"Joten, me hyvä?" So, we good?_

The warrior gives a nonchalant shrug. _"Se ei ole minun päättää." That's not for me to decide. _Without another word, he points to somewhere behind me, and I turn to see yet _another_ warrior, holding three black sacks in his hands. I turn to my uncle.

"So," I say in Nihongo, "you down?"

He shrugs. "If we have to."

I nod, then turn back to my old friend. _"Sinun ei tarvitse niitä hänelle." Hän on sokea. You don't need those for her. She's blind._

The warrior shrugs, looks to Toph, nods, then turns back to us. He snaps his fingers, and then, the next thing I know, a black sack is being slid over my head and the world has faded away. My hands are bound behind my back, and I'm sure they're doing the same to my uncle. It takes some convincing to get them to just let Toph stay on her ostrich-horse, and even more convincing to get her not to earthbend ever last one of these guys into the sea, but finally, after much delay, we're off.

It takes about an hour to get to where we're going. In the meantime, I do my best to tune everything out. The experience is, not to put too fine a point on it, rather humiliating. My uncle does his best to stay cheerful, humming happy tunes and just in general whispering me encouragement, but all I can do is glare and glower and grumble. For a time, all we hear are our new friends, chatting to each other. There's a brief pause, no doubt while we're admitted to the camp, and then the chatter of our guards is swallowed by the muted, carefully controlled cacophony of an army camp. I sense the men gathering as we pass, muttering to each other in low voices. It seems that nearly every Southern Water Tribe is present, as I catch snippets of a truly bewildering array of accents and dialects.

Through it all, I grit my teeth, close my eyes, and think of Katara. It's about the only thing that keeps me calm enough to endure.

Finally, we stop. I sense a vague, large, cloth mass in front of us. We're told to wait, and then I hear a tent flap sliding open and closed and then we're left waiting. My uncle hums, Toph swears a blue streak (which is what she's been doing for most of the past hour, except for those few moments when she's lapsed into heavy fuming), and I just…

_I just think of Katara, and try not to over-react…_

My thoughts are interrupted by the tent flap opening again. Behind me, I listen as someone helps Toph down to the ground, and I can't help but chuckle at the tidal wave of fear that washes over them when the girl stomps her feet and makes the earth tremble a bit. The warriors start to get angry, until Toph gives them a smile and says, "That's what you get for tying up my friends. Now, are we going to stand here with our dicks in the wind all day, or are we going to get something the fuck done?"

She speaks in Guangzhou, of course (she knows not a word of Suomi), but the point of her little speech seems easy enough to understand, and the warriors seem satisfied (or intimidated) enough to let it pass. There's some grumbling, and then the three of us are shoved roughly into the tent and forced to our feet. Some tears the hood from my head, and I find myself taking a big, gasping breath in relief.

I look around the tent. It's big and a bit cramped. Surrounding us are about twenty men, all middle-aged, with ponytails like Sokka's and more than a few with scars scattered upon their skin. Many puff on pipes and cigarettes, and the space is filled with smoke and the bitter taste of human sweat. I blink in what seems like blinding light, and find my gaze drawn to a man seated directly in front of us. He holds Katara's letter in one hand, lightly tapping it against his knee, while his other hand calmly strokes his thick, well-trimmed beard.

It takes me a moment to realize who he is, though I don't know why. The resemblance to Sokka is uncanny. He's basically what you would get if you gave Sokka a broader chest, a better beard, and about twenty-some-odd years. The man even has the same forever bemused twinkle in his eyes, though right now, the face that envelops those same eyes is grave. He regards us carefully for a moment, until, finally, he speaks.

"So," he says, speaking Suomi, "you," he points at me, "are Zuko."

I nod slowly, doing my best not to look away. "I am, sir." I nod at my uncle. "This is my uncle, Iroh, and over here," I nod at my other side, "is our friend, the Lady Toph Bei Fong."

From beside me, I hear Toph mutter, _"If you just called me a lady, you're fucking __**dead.**__"_

_"Hush,"_ I mutter back, before turning my attention back to the man before me. "You, sir, must be Chief Hakoda." I bow my head. "It's an honor to meet you."

He nods, his features still seemingly etched in stone. "I'm sure it is." He holds the letter up. "Have you read this?"

I shake my head. "No, sir, I simply taught your daughter enough to write it, let her write it, then sealed it up and carried it here."

He nods. It may be my imagination, or maybe even some wishful thinking, but I can't help but suspect that the corner of his mouth seems to twitch into a faint whisper of a smile. He brings it back under control quickly, though, squaring his shoulders and fixing me with a bit of a glare. I begin to suspect that I've stepped into some strange sort of drama, a cheap comedy, put on for a crowd of peasants at a country fair.

"So," he says, "what would you have to say, if I told you that one of the things this letter says is that you're my daughter's boyfriend?"

I blink. My mouth goes dry. My mind goes blank. I would have given anything, at the moment, for the earth to just swallow me whole.

All I can say, though, is, _"Oh."_

Yeah, that's best I could come up with. _Oh_. Pretty funny, eh? I didn't think so.

* * *

Hey…not going to lie, the end there was pretty fun. I pretty much came up with that on the fly. It is, almost word for word, my initial mental reaction from earlier today, when my now fiancée (man, that's wiggy to say) informed me that I will be having dinner with her parents next Sunday. Woo!

By the way, to anyone who actually _speaks_ Finnish, I apologize. I'm using Google Translate, so blame Google, not me, mmkay?

Well, it's bed-and-cuddle time, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you've enjoyed my triumphant return! In the next chapter, Zuko gets to know Hakoda, and has a happy – if unexpected – reunion. Stay tuned!


	23. Chapter 23

23. THE TENT HAS BEEN CLEARED, SO THAT ONLY HAKODA AND I REMAIN. After the initial impression of claustrophobia, the sensation of an empty tent is something of a relief. I roll my head around on my shoulders, shake my arms out. One of the last things that happened before the other chiefs (I'm assuming) filed out was that Hakoda ordered them to cut my wrist bindings. There was some objection to this, one of the other chiefs pointing out that I'm obviously a firebender, and thus, _dangerous_, but Hakoda silences the budding argument with a glance and, without any more hesitation, my hands and those of my companions are cut free. I'm rubbing my wrists, trying to get the blood to flow again, when my uncle, before being led out, leans down and whispers, _"Don't worry, Zuko, just be yourself."_

I'm still chuckling at that as the tent flap slides closed behind me. _Yeah, be myself, because __**that**__ always works out…_

I shake the thought away and focus my attention on the man before me. Since he passed on the rather shocking news of what was in his daughter's letter, he hasn't said a word to me, and now appears not at all inclined to say more. He has a pipe clamped firmly in his mouth, and he is puffing on it, slow and steady. I feel my fingers twitch, sense the outline of the cigarettes in my pocket, but resist the urge. It's a trial, yes, but I manage.

The silence stretches on, like a knife being scrapped over a stone. Outside, I can hear the camp bustling away, the thousand-thousand _clicks_ and _clacks_ and _bangs_ of an army at rest, warriors gossiping and weapons being sharpened and maintained and tasks being performed. For a brief moment, I catch the voices of my uncle talking to Toph, but though I perk my ears towards the sound, I can't quite make out what they're saying before their voices vanish into the cacophony of the camp. I strain my ears a little bit more, and can just about make out the sound of the sea lapping against the shore, there at the edge of my awareness. I find myself making all kinds of logical leaps and deductions, all of which are terribly interesting and not at all helpful.

Because I'm still here, stuck in this tent, alone with a man who looks like he could break me in half if he was so inclined.

I reach up, begin nervously rubbing the back of my neck. I clear my throat, look around some more. I can feel a faint redness creeping into my face, a redness that brings with it an awkward numbness that spreads out from my chest and into my fingers and my toes. I close my eyes, desperately try to fight it off. It doesn't work, at least, not well, but I feel a little bit more in control, right up until I open my eyes and find Hakoda, still there, still staring at me, still waiting for me to say something.

I clear my throat again. _Why do I keep doing that?! GAH! _I grab my inner voice by the throat and toss him into the sea; he whines and moans and complains all the way there. I find my fist coming up to my mouth, feel the beginning motions of _throat clearing_ start to tense in my body, and shove the hand down into my lap. _Fucking hell, Zuko, get a hold of yourself._ I search my mind for pearls of wisdom, desperate for something, buried deep in my consciousness, that might help me deal with the current situation.

Sadly, the first thing I find is my father, shaking his head and glaring at me.

_Lucky to be born, Zuko, lucky to be born…_

I flip him the bird.

_Yeah, fuck you, too, dad…_

That makes me feel a little bit better. _Okay, maybe more than a little bit…_

I reach into my pocket, pull out a pack of cigarettes that it much the worse for wear. I shake a slightly bent and battered cigarette out, grip it in my teeth, slide the pack back in my pocket. I arch an eyebrow at Hakoda. "Mind if I light up?"

He purses his lips, shrugs. "Be my guest, young man."

I briefly consider attempting a confidant smile, of the sly kind that I've seen Sokka pull off from time-to-time. Fortunately, I quickly calculate my chances of success, come up with a number, and decide against such a rash course of action, concentrating instead on snapping a flame from my thumb and lighting my cigarette. I shake the flame out, take a few long, calming drags, and am not the least bit surprised that the nicotine does nothing to ease my mind.

_Oh well, worth a try…_

"So," I say, working hard to keep my eyes locked on Hakoda's, "mind if I ask what else was in the letter?"

He shrugs, holds it out to me. "See for yourself."

I take the letter, roll it out. The handwriting is rudimentary, and the spelling is atrocious, and we won't even get into the grammar, but it's fairly easy to understand. The letter itself is business-like and to-the-point, starting off by hoping the letter finds Hakoda in good health, and assuring him that both of his children are well and hope to see him soon. At some point, Sokka takes over by way of Katara, telling their father how the tribal elders would dearly like the army to return home, as soon as possible. I grimace at that; I had heard that there had been some sort of council meeting, not long before we left, and I had an inkling what was discussed, but to see it spelled out like that, well…

_The tribes are basically asking Hakoda to come to terms…_

There's also this part, which, well…I'll let it speak for itself (though I've polished it a bit):

_Now, Daddy, the boy who brings this to you is Fire Nation, but he's a good boy. I know he has that scar, but look past that. He's the one who taught me how to write this, and he's pretty much my boyfriend, so be nice! Even Sokka likes him! He's kind of a dork and not very good in awkward situations, but I still know you'll like him. And his uncle's crazy, too!_

I try hard not to blush at that, I really do. _I promise._ I'm sure I even kind of/sort of succeed, too!

When I finish the letter, I look back up at Hakoda, who has seemingly not so much as twitched a muscle. I let the scroll roll back up, and place it at my side. I shift about a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position, give up, and re-focus my attention.

"So," I say, "there's a lot in that letter."

He nods, slow and steady. "There is, indeed."

I resist the urge to run my hand through my hair, and manage not to clear my throat before speaking again. "Which part would you like to discuss first?"

Hakoda gives an easy shrug, and a faint whisper of a smile seems to take form on his face. "Which part would make you more comfortable to discuss?"

_Wait…he's not…no…he can't…_

Suddenly, I remember a key detail that, for some reason, has slipped my mind entirely: _This guy is Sokka's dad._

It all becomes clear then.

"Sir…can I ask you a question?"

The smile grows wider. "Of course."

"Are you…_are you messing with me?_"

A chuckle escapes from him, rumbling up from the cavern that is his chest.

"Now, young man, what could _possibly_ give you that idea?"

I won't lie, I kind of stare at him for a moment. I'm pretty sure my mouth hangs open, and I'm pretty sure my jaw opens and closes a few times, and I'm absolutely _certain_ that I look like a complete and utter idiot. _Which isn't exactly a __**new**__ sensation, sure, but still…_

Finally, words become something I'm capable of again, and I shake my head clear of the crazed tangle of thoughts and emotions and clap my palm to my face.

"You know, sir, you're much better at this than your son is."

He laughs, loud and free. "Well, I've had a bit more practice, truth be told. Plus," he adds, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes, "it's a lot easier to pull something like this off without my daughter hanging around."

I can't help but chuckle at that. "Of that, I have no doubt. But still, I have to ask…why all the drama?"

He adopts a bit of an apologetic expression. "Well, for that, I have to apologize. I'm afraid my men have been a little jumpy of late, and I'm afraid that they…well…_over-reacted._" He frowns. "It was especially inexcusable, since we knew that you were coming."

"Wait…_what?_ You _knew_ we were coming?"

He nods, that remarkably Sokka-like smile still on his face. "We did. You see, your ship beat you here by several weeks."

A jolt of elation flashes from my toes all the way up to my hair and back again. I make no effort to hide my relief and my excitement. "They are?! My crew is _here?!_"

He chuckles. "They are, indeed, young man, and might I say, they've been worried _sick_ about you." His voice drops, and he leans a bit towards me. "By the way, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention that my men manhandled you a bit. I can't help but feel that your crew would get a bit…well…_peevish_ at that news."

I spread my hands. "Consider it water under the bridge, sir. It was a perfectly understandable mistake, and I see no reason to dwell on it."

He leans back, smiling. "You know, my daughter's right about you."

I arch my eyebrow. "How so?"

He laughs. "You _are_ a good boy, and I think I _do_ like you." He gestures with the stem of his pipe towards the sea. "After all, any man who can inspire loyalty of the kind I saw in your crew is a good man in my book."

I rub the back of my neck, trying not to blush (_again, __**fuck**_). "Well, thank you, sir, that means a lot to me."

He rolls his eyes. "And enough with the _sir._ My people aren't _nearly_ that formal. Please, call me Hakoda."

I smile. "Very well, umm…uhh…heh…_Hakoda._" The name feels strange and unwieldy in my mouth, and it takes every ounce of willpower that I have not to tack a _sir_ on at the end. _Gods, I really __**am**__ a fucking dork…_ "So…umm…_Hakoda_…"

He arches an eyebrow, doing nothing to hide his amusement. "Yes, _Zuko?_"

I reach over, poke the rolled up letter at my side. "About the rest of the letter…"

His smile vanishes. All of a sudden, the indulgent father is gone, vanished in the blink of an eye. The man before me now is taller, straighter, _bigger_ somehow, managing to glower down at me, even though I'm pretty sure we're about the same height. He lays his pipe to the side, rests his hands on his knees, and there before me, is a _chief._

"Yes, I suppose we should stop avoiding that." Even his voice seems larger, _grander_, somehow. "Is there any more that you can add, other than what you read in the letter?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not. I know that there was a meeting of elders, and I'd heard that there were similar meetings in many of the other tribes, but beyond that…" I shrug. "All I know for certain is that, at the very least, they would like you to bring your army home."

He nods, slow and careful. "In other words, my people wish to bring the war to an end."

I bow my head. "It seems to be that way, yes."

There's a long, heavy pause before he speaks again. "How do you feel about that?"

I blink, confused. "Pardon?"

"How do _you_ feel about that, about the idea of me taking my army home and calling it quits?"

I take a few moments to search for an answer. "Well…I'm not sure I'd call it that."

He nods. "And what would you call it?"

"Well…_getting out while you're ahead, _really. From what I've heard, you've never been beaten in the field."

He chuckles. "More or less."

I smile. "You see, that's a reputation you can use. Basically say, _I won't cause any more problems, just so long as you let me take my men home._"

"So, basically, I'd be asking for a parole agreement. My men and I go home, and in return, we promise not to fight anymore, and to come to some sort of terms with the Fire Nation."

"Pretty much, sir…er, I mean, _Hakoda._" I grimace, rub the back of my neck. "I know it's humiliating, and I know it's…it's a tough pill to swallow, and to be honest, I'm about as happy to see things turn out this way as you are, but…" I shrug, fumble for words for a few moments, before giving up. "I don't know. I really don't."

He shakes his head. "You're right, young man, it _is_ a tough pill to swallow. In fact, the plan you just outlined to me would be the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life, and, without a doubt, the most humiliating. But…the thing is…_you're right._"

I blink. "Come again?"

He laughs. "You don't get told that very often, do you?"

"Heh…let's just say that it's not a regular occurrence in my life, no."

He sighs. "Well, pursue a relationship with my daughter, and the odds are good you'll never hear it again. Still…as I said…you're absolutely right. The Earth Kingdom has fallen, the North has come to terms, the Air Nomads are scattered…"

"The Avatar is gone…" I mutter to myself.

He nods. "The Avatar is gone. There is, quite simply, no point in continued resistance, at least not here, in the Earth Kingdom. Our best hope is to get home, where my boys will be able to do the most good."

I chuckle. "You already decided all of this."

He shrugs. "Pretty much."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm still being tested."

He laughs. "Absolutely! And, might I say, you passed with flying colors." With that, he heaves himself up off the ground, taking a moment to crack his back before extending a hand and pulling me to my feet. We both pause to brush dirt and sand from our clothes, before he throws his arm around my shoulders and starts leading me towards the door.

"Now, I believe that there's a certain crew that is desperate to see that you're still breathing…"

Hakoda opens the tent flap, and there, arrayed before the tent, are all of officers, big, silly grins on their faces. In unison, they bow. I take a moment to bow back, before striding up to them as they gather around me, slapping my back and ruffling my hair. Captain Fujita practically breaks me with his back slap, leaving me rubbing my shoulders and wincing a little bit around me smile. He throws an arm around my shoulders, shaking me like a rag doll.

"I have to say, my lord, that it's good to have you back."

I laugh, throw my own arm around _his_ shoulders. "Well, it's good to _be_ back. Is the crew alright?"

He nods. "All safe and sound and pleased as punch that you and your uncle are okay."

"Excellent." I wag a finger at him. "Good job not following orders, by the way."

He fills his face with innocence. "Who, _us_? No…"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

He laughs, shakes me some more. "So, my lord, what are you orders?"

I turn to look back at Hakoda. I'm not sure how much he follows, since we're all chattering in Nihongo, so I try to communicate with my eyes. He nods at me slowly, and somehow, I know he understands.

"Well, gentlemen, the orders are to get the hell out of here and head for the South." I turn back to them. "These men need to go home, and I have a date to keep."

At that, they all cheer, and for a moment, there by the sea, I actually start to believe it's going to be that easy.

Idiotic, I know, but we all have our moments of insanity.

* * *

So, I have a quick apology to make. While I was gone, I didn't get to do much work on this, and when I came back, for some bizarre reason, my brain decided that I was still working on _A Different Path._ Then, last night, I went back and re-read the first ten chapters of this story, and thought, _Hey, that was fun, let's go back to that stuff._

And thus, here we are! We're going to get Hakoda and his men the fuck out of the Earth Kingdom, get Zuko to his date, and get back to the fluff. I kicked off this turn back to the original spirit of the narrative by sitting Zuko down to get mind-fucked by Hakoda a bit, because why not, right? And besides, I wanted to showcase why I should never be allowed to have children.

So, in the next chapter, shit goes sideways (as it tends to do, because, let's face it, Zuko's not exactly known for his _luck_), and, of all people, Toph figures out how to get out of it. Stay tuned!


	24. Chapter 24

24. THE SEA STRETCHES OUT ALL AROUND ME, AN ENDLESS SHEET OF DIAMONDS SPARKLING IN THE SUN. The wind on my face is fresh and cool, billowing out of the south. It carries with it the smell of salt and the taste of hope and the promise of a future. Behind us, the world is grinding out the last stages of a century-long drama. Behind us, my father stands triumphant, striding over the world like a colossus, no doubt savoring the victory that was denied to his father and his grandfather. I can only hope and pray that he stays there. He as only to look in the direction that we're headed, and the last few pieces of the tapestry will slot quietly into place. The world is tired of war; to many, tyranny seems a small price to pay for something that can be called _peace _and _quiet._

I'm sitting on the prow of my ship, the spray of the sea tickling my bare feet. My legs dangle over the side, my arms folded atop a run of the railing. The railing itself, like the rest of the ship, is old and rickety, but it does its job just fine, allowing me to lay my chin atop my arms and gaze off into the horizon. It's nice, this moment here, this calm after far too long spent at the center of the storm. I don't want to look back. I have no desire to. I look only forward. Only one word echoes in my mind, one name, etched into my very heart, sharp as a knife yet soft as a piece of silk.

_Katara…_

A petulant sigh escapes the form slumped beside me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the source of the exasperation, mimicking my pose, milky eyes clouded with annoyance and boredom. I reach over, ruffle her hair, causing her to spring to life just long enough to swat my hands away and resume her sulk.

"You know," I say, "being on a ship isn't _that_ bad."

She sighs once more, taking a moment to puff a strand of hair off of her nose. "Yes, Sparky, it fucking _is._ It fucking _sucks._ It's the worst fucking thing in the fucking _world._"

I roll my eyes. It's hard not to laugh. "Hey, you're the one who wanted to see the world."

She shoots me a look that can best be described as _deadly_. "You think you're pretty gods-damn clever, don't you?"

I shrug, resume my position. "I have my moments, you have to admit."

She scoffs. "Yeah, _whatever._" Another pause, then a muttered sound that sounds a lot like, _Ass._ She puffs away another strand of hair, probably the same one, making no move to actually attempt to put it in place, just fighting a never-ending battle with it. "So, excited?"

I let a smile crease my face. "Yeah…I am."

She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, gag me with a fucking _spoon_. You're ridiculous, you know that?"

I chuckle. "Yeah, I know." My elation fades quickly, as my smile turns into a frown. "But I'm also a bit nervous." I chew on my choice of words, find the taste rather unpleasant, spit it out and pick something else. "Actually, scratch that, _I'm fucking terrified."_

She turns to me, incredulity writ plain on her face. "The hell? Why?"

"Well," I say, rolling my head so that I can get a better look at her, "think about it. I mean…we only really knew each other for a _month_. Now, I've been gone for almost, like…_three_. What if…what if she doesn't feel the same way anymore? What if…" I struggle for words, find some that seem to work, "_what if she's come to her senses?"_

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "_Please._ Does this girl you keep mooning over really strike you as the kind of person to just kind of…_do shit like that?"_ She laughs to herself. "I mean, let's face it, if there's anyone in this relationship whom the other should fear might change their feelings, it's _you_."

I round on her, feeling vaguely offended. "The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well," she says, voice earnest, "think about it. In the past few months, you've given aid and comfort to your people's enemies, taken in some crazy blind teenage girl on a whim, become buddies with a man who's spent most of the past decade-and-a-half being nothing but a thorn in your father's eyes, and then, to cap it all off, _committed treason_." She giggles. "Sounds to me like you're someone who is a bit…well…_changeable._"

Now I've most past _vague offense_ to being downright irritated. "Now, see here, that's a complete misrepresentation of the facts. For one thing, it's not like I'm an actual citizen of the Fire Nation or anything, I was fucking _banished_."

"Which is something you're going to have to elaborate on at some point."

I wave this aside. "Whatever. My uncle told you our life stories, isn't that enough?"

She shrugs. "Maybe, but he was hazy with the details of exactly _how_ you got thrown out of your hometown. But fuck it, press on."

"Yeah, fuck it, but yeah, come on, how can I give aid and comfort to the enemy, if, but the terms of my banishment, _I don't have a country to betray._ So, yeah, there's that." I raise a finger, waving it at her. "And let's not forget that said _crazy-ass teenage girl_ pretty much invited herself along on this journey, so leave me out of that."

She nods. "Alright, fair enough, but what about the treason?"

I settle my chin back down upon my crossed arms. "Yeah…well…as treason goes, it was pretty lame." Katara's voice rings in my ears. _You're, like, the worst fucking villain in the entirety of human existence._ "I guess _treason_ is another thing I suck at."

"I dunno, it seemed pretty boss to me, to be honest."

"Yeah, but for one thing, you couldn't see it. I mean, we just…_sailed right through that blockade_, which means it wasn't actually a blockade, which means they weren't there to fight us, or whatever, and besides, let's not forget that it was actually _your fucking idea_." I smile, proud of myself. "So, really, all I was doing was going along for the ride. See? No treason."

She laughs. "You know, Zuko, the way you argue, you could almost be royalty."

"How do you mean?"

"Well," she says, shooting me a sly grin, "you suck at it. It's like no one ever really argued with you before."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Oh, and by the way, thanks."

She arches an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused. "For what?"

"For distracting me."

She nods. "Ah. No problem. Though, really, I wouldn't worry about it."

"Why not?"

"Come on, you're bringing her father back to her. You're at _least_ going to get a nob-shine out of the whole business."

I bury my face in my arms. "For fuck's sake, Toph, do you _mind_?"

She giggles. "Not in the least." She peels an arm out, points towards the horizon. "So, what am I seeing?"

I look at the roiling sea. "How do you mean?"

"Well," she says, sounded a lot like she's speaking to a particularly stupid puppy, "everyone keeps telling me that the sunsets at sea are…like…fucking _fantastic_. But I can't see them, right? So here I am, hating being on a ship, but everyone seems to be more-or-less enjoying themselves, and it can't be the food, or the facilities, and it _definitely_ isn't the comfortableness of the shitters, so, I figure, maybe it's these awesome sunsets that people keep talking about. So, you know, tell me about the sunset."

"What, you want me to describe it to you?"

"Gods, Zuko, you really do need everything spelled the fuck out for you, don't you?"

I sigh. "Just being clear. I try to avoid being smacked on the head by you."

"And yet, you do such a shitty job at it."

I shrug. "What can I say? I'm not very good at most things."

"Whatever. Just…tell me about the fucking sunset already."

I take a deep breath. "Well…it's…shit…"

"What?"

"I just thought of how hard this is going to be."

"How so?"

"Well, think about it. You're _blind_, and you've been blind since birth, right?"

"Last I checked."

"So, what am I supposed to say? That the sun is _red?_ What would that even _mean_ to you? You've never seen the color red."

"Maybe not, but I can imagine it."

"Yeah, but I want you to get a good picture."

"Just sketch me the details, Sparky, and I'll take care of the rest."

"But, don't you want me to get it _right?"_

"Gods, are you this uptight and anxious around this Katara chick?"

I sigh, doing nothing to hold back the mopey cheese that laces the sound. "Not at all, no. That's what makes her special."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake, just…just fucking _tell me about the motherfucking sunset already!"_

"Alright, alright! Well…umm…the sun is setting just to our right, that being west. It's kind of out of my view right now; I'd have to turn my head to get a good look at it, but I can't see it. But, I can see it's reflection in the water. The entire sea is just this…I dunno…this bed of _fire_, for lack of a better word, and it just goes on and on and _on_. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, and no matter how many time I see this sight, I just…I just never get tired of it, you know? Don't answer that, I've got a rhythm going here. But yeah…the best part, though, even better than the water, is the _sky_. There's these…wispy clouds above us, like cotton balls caught in the wind and being slowly unwound by this bored god. Only, instead of being white, the clouds are…like…just a thousand different shades of red and purple and gold. And the sky is a lot like that, too, starting out all pink and shit over to our right and fading slowly into purple then blue and finally this weird, glowing kind of blackish-blue, off to our left. And-"

Toph stops me with a wave of her hand. "That's good enough, buddy."

I turn to her, my breath caught in my mouth. My heart is racing, and my fingers are prickling with excitement. I was really…I dunno…_I was really getting into it._ The view really is glorious. This is one of my favorite places to be, here at the edge of ship. It always feels like I'm sitting at the very tip of the world, leaning over the abyss below me, my stomach floating and dancing within me. I'm about to object, to say the best is yet to come, when I see that her eyes are glistening. I untangle one of my arms, reach over, lay a palm on her shoulder. She sniffs, wipes the moisture from her eyes, and gives me the kind of girly smile that I was, until then, pretty sure she was incapable of.

"Yeah, Sparky, you haven't a gods-damn thing to worry about. No wonder she digs you." She reaches up, pats my hand, turns back to the horizon. "And thank you. That was…I don't think I hate sailing so much anymore."

I squeeze her shoulder, and resume my previous position. We don't say anything for a while, just kind of…_sit there_. I don't know what she's thinking about, but I know that I'm not thinking about anything in particular. I'm just…

_I'm just…__**being…**_

I smile to myself. _It's nice having friends…_

_ Even when they're crazy lesbian earthbending teenagers…_

"Hey, Sparky?"

"Hmm?"

"Think there's any girls like me where we're going?"

"If there aren't already, I'm sure there will be soon."

"Heh…maybe…but what about ones with big tits? I really like big tits."

All I can do is shake my head and laugh.

"You're crazy, Toph, you know that?"

"Fucking right I am, and don't you forget it."

"I won't."

_I don't._

* * *

You know, I had, like, something else entirely for this bit, but fuck it, this is more fun. So, basically, Zuko and Company got away scot free. In my mind, the Fire Nation fleet that appeared outside of Chameleon Bay had no idea that the Water Tribe army was there, and as such, had no orders to stop them from leaving. Add this to the fact that no soldier is inclined to be the last one to die in a war, and when the fleet just kind of…_wandered out and away_, no one was in any way in the mood to stop them. In my mind, it was Toph who suggested trying this. It's the kind of plan that only she would be crazy enough to come up with.

When I was in college, I actually dated a girl who'd been blind since birth. I guess I have a kind of…_poetic_ way with words, which is funny, because I suck at poetry, but she used to make me describe things to her like Toph makes Zuko do in this scene. So, yeah, that's where the idea for this chapter came from. Once I thought of it, I threw out the several chapters-worth of outlined drama and decided to go back to having fun. I hope you guys don't mind. It was time to get back to the fluff, you know?

Anyways, in the next chapter, stuff happens, definitely some fluff. Stay tuned!

PS – It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm going to get ridiculously drunk, but I hope to get you guys an update sometime in the morning. No promises, though. I might be…_distracted_. ;-)


	25. Chapter 25

25. _WE'RE HERE. _Those are pretty much the only words I can think, almost the only words I can even _form._ Over and over again, they ring out inside my head like a bell. _We're here._ The words consume me, leave me almost vibrating with anticipation in a way that a small part of me can't help but find rather nauseating. _We're here._ I stand at the railing, tapping my fingers absently on the cool metal. _We're here._ I bounce up and down, chewing on my lip. _We're here._ The shoreline approaches at a pace I can't help but find excruciating. _We're here. _The wind blows in my face and ruffles my hair and the smell of the sea becomes mixed with the scent of trees and dirt and grass and I'm nervously shifting my weight and tapping my foot and humming mindless tunes to myself and my heart is running wild in my throat and the crew is cheering and someone in the bridge is yanking on the ships whistle over and over again and I'm pretty sure it's my uncle and I'm almost _certain_ that he's laughing at me but whatever because it doesn't matter because _we're here._

_ We're here…_

_**We're here…**_

_** WE'RE HERE!**_

Summer has finally bled into early fall by the time we arrive. The world is awash in the colors of autumn, a riot of browns and golds. There's a chill in the air, the first harbinger of the southern winter to come. There's a palpable sense of excitement, the closer we get. I can barely sleep, and I can barely eat. I lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, listening to the ship creak and moan around me. My face burns with a smile that I'm doing my best to contain. My heart hammers away in my chest, creeping slowly up my throat. I can't sit still. At one point, Toph threatens to tie me to a chair. I just laugh and ignore her, up until she actually ties to me to my cot in the middle of the night. I suspect my uncle is involved, though I can't be sure. I really don't care. When I wake up, all I can do is laugh, giggling to myself as I burn the ropes away.

_Ropes…_

_ The ropes!_

The crew is bustling about on deck, and out of the corner of my one good eye, I see one of them (_it looks a lot like Fukada, but I don't have enough brain power to spare to make sure_) balancing on the balls of his feet, holding the starboard mooring line in his hands, and I can sense someone else (_probably Gato, that's typically his job_) doing the same at port, and the point of contact is getting closer and closer and people are beginning to swarm towards the shore and I can see them smiling and shouting and some are crying and I'm pretty sure I see Sokka there, striding up towards the docks, and from behind me I can hear horns being blown and the cheers bursting out on the Water Tribe ships and I can almost _picture_ the warriors, grown men, hardened by war and battle, jumping and down like little boys and I look down and see that I'm gripping the railing so hard my knuckles have turned right and then…

A faint scraping sound comes from below, and I sense Fukada and Gato tossing the lines off, and the anchor chain rattles as it drops, and when the ship does its final roll from one side to the other before settling down at its berth, my heart actually does a little leap, threatening to burst right out through my throat. I try not to laugh, I really do. It's ridiculous, I know it is. _Who is this person?_ I try to imagine myself, right there at that moment, and I can't. _I really can't._ He's new to me, this man, this person I never really thought I could be. But it doesn't matter.

_It doesn't matter…_

Because the gangplank is going down and I'm doing my best not to run off of it and all along the shore, the other ships are sliding into place and I can see warriors practically _leaping_ onto the beach and hurling themselves into the crowds and there's screaming and shouting and chanting and singing. Drums are beat and horns are blown and someone (_definitely my crazy loon of an uncle_) is wailing on my ship's whistle for all that he's worth but I'm really not paying the least bit of attention. I'm walking into the crowd, or at least, I try to, but they come to meet me, they start gathering around me. People are hugging me and shouting my name and suddenly one of the warriors has appeared beside me and thrown an arm around me shoulders and is telling everyone that I'm the one to thank, _I made this possible, _but I just shake my head, _because that's just not true_, but no one will hear any argument. Instead, they start hugging me harder, slapping my back and old women (_and some __**not so old**__ women_) start planting kisses on my cheeks and ruffling my hair and hugging me so hard I can barely _breath._

All thoughts of joy and happiness fly out of my mind. The crowd is pressing in and I can see the warriors joining it and I can hear Hakoda's voice booming out over the chaos, commanding people to let him through, let him through so he can _thank me himself_, and my head is spinning and my mouth is dry and my heart is sinking into my feet and down through the very earth itself. My hands are shaking even worse now, only through fear instead of joyful anticipation, and my chest feels tight and heavy and warm, and my eyes are burning, and I feel like just falling to the ground and crawling away to go hide under my bunk. I hate being the center of attention, just fucking _hate it_, I want to get away, _I have to get away_. I feel the panic rising up from my core and I'm trying not to cry but no one notices, they just keep jostling me and growing louder and the horns and the whistle and the drums _and the…_

_ It stops…_

_ The world just kind of…_

_**Stops…**_

I had just turned nineteen when I first noticed her. We had stopped at the village to trade for supplies. I had wanted to press on, but we needed fresh meat and even sailors can only eat fish for so long, so my uncle insisted and we stopped. The protocols for coming to shore were already beginning to grow lax, even then. Of the group of us that went ashore, I was the only one wearing a helmet, and even that was only because…well…_my scar wasn't full a scar yet_. My uncle talked to the elders and I just kind of…_shuffled about behind him_, impatience and annoyance welling up inside. I longed to get back on the ship. I felt angry, frustrated_, furious_. _Why did my uncle insist on dragging me to this meeting? Why couldn't I have just stayed on board? No one stared at me on the ship…_

_ No one hated me on the ship…_

Then I saw her, just out of the corner of my one good eye. She standing at the edge of the crowd, next to a tall boy who bore a faint resemblance to her. She looked not much younger than me, about seventeen or so, and she was, for lack of a better word, _beautiful._ And she was…she was…

_She was watching me, and there didn't seem to be hate or fear in her eyes…_

I found myself experiencing this mad urge to go up to her, to talk to her. I found my mind wandering, while I watched her out of the one corner of an eye that remained to me, and I felt my heart speed up, and blood and warmth rush to my face. _I really wanted to talk to her._ She didn't look scared of me, and she didn't look like she hated me. _I really wanted to know why._

A voice that sounded an awful lot like my sister crept into my mind.

_A prince wouldn't care about such things. A prince, if anything, would be angered at the lack of such emotions in the eyes of those beneath them._

That was the first time I had the _Thought_. It was the first time I allowed a voice that sounded even remotely like my own to echo within my soul and offer the first piece of dissent I'd ever even fucking _imagined._

_Well, maybe I don't want to be a prince then…_

Yeah, that's pretty much when it all started, my second life, _my real life_, the long, hard, winding road to this moment, right here.

_Because she's here…_

The most beautiful young woman in the entire world has just burst from the crowd, long, dark hair billowing behind her as she cries my name and hurls herself into my arms. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around her and pick her up and swing her around and I'm fucking _laughing_. That's right, _**laughing**_.

I know. I find it hard to believe myself, but it's true. The once-upon-a-time Crown Prince of the Fire Nation is standing in the middle of a rowdy crowd of Water Tribe peasants, swinging a girl around and around in his arms and laughing like a freaking loon.

_And it's awesome…_

Finally, I set her down. The crowd has taken a few steps back, or maybe it just _feels_ that way, because suddenly, the reason I'm having difficulty breathing has nothing to do with an attack of nerves, but, rather, with the woman in my arms. She's beaming up at me, tears in her eyes, and she looks like she has nothing to say, she just stays there, arms linked behind my neck, shaking her head, looking positively _ecstatic_, and I'm just standing there, looking down at her, no doubt looking like some love-struck idiot straight out of some gods-awful play, and then insanity takes full possession of my being and I'm grabbing her face and I'm pulling her to me and she's not resisting at all.

_Not one. Little. __**Bit.**_

My lips meet hers, and the crowd lets out a cheer. She tightens her grip on me, practically _molds_ her body to mine, and she's smiling and giggling under my kisses as I chuckle and grin under hers. Her fingers start winding her way through my hair and my hands get tangled in her hair and the crowd starts chanting our names and laughing themselves _sick._

At least until there's a very clear, very strong, very heavy _clearing of the throat_, and the fun stops for a few moments.

Katara and I leap apart from each other as if we'd been scalded. There, standing before us, is good ole' Chief Hakoda, standing next to a very bemused-looking Sokka. Sokka's just shaking his head, clucking his tongue and looking like he's about to die of hysterical laughter at any moment, while Hakoda…well…

_Hakoda just arches an eyebrow and waits…_

After a moment's confusion, Katara jumps away from me, hurling herself into her father's arms and burying her face in his chest. If Hakoda had intended to play another little mind game on me, his plan seems to die a very quick death, as he tightens his grip on his daughter and kisses the top of her head. He makes no attempt to stop or hide the tears rolling down his face, and he looks, just then, like the happiest man who ever lived.

I just kind of…well…feel a little uncomfortable, while I shift around on my feet and try to undo the damage Katara has just done to my hair. The crowd holds their breath, waiting in anticipation. I don't feel ashamed or anything, just…well…_embarrassed, _and not even by the fact that I just got caught making out with the chief's daughter by…well…_the fucking CHIEF._ No, it's just…

Well…

_Happy families make me uncomfortable…_

_ They always make my scar twitch a little…_

But I swallow my discomfort and try to focus on happy thoughts and start praying to all the gods that Hakoda doesn't forget that he had admitted not too long before that his daughter was right about the prediction she made in her letter, that he actually did, indeed, like me. I look from the happy domestic scene before me to Sokka, who just keeps shaking his head and smiling. He catches my eye, and throws me a wink, and instantly, I feel a lot better.

Finally, Hakoda and Katara untangle themselves. Hakoda ruffles his daughter's hair, causing her to squawk and swat at his hands, while he just laughs and points in my direction. "So, sweetheart," he says, a smile on his face as wide as the ocean and not a hint of malice in his eyes, "who's this?"

She rolls her eyes and clucks her tongue. "Now, _Daddy_, you know full well who this is."

He shrugs, an innocent look in his eyes. "Oh? Do I?"

She sighs. "You're ridiculous, Daddy, you know that?"

He laughs. "I know. Now, if you don't mind…"

She rolls her eyes one more time, then strides over to my side and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, takes my hand and threads her fingers through mine. Her other hand she places on my arm, and squeezes my biceps in encouragement. I swallow hard and smile. It's not that difficult to smile. How could it be?

_Everything's going to be alright…_

"Well, _Dad_, this is Zuko." She gives my hand a squeeze. "He's going to teach me how to read and write and, when we have the time, he's going to take me out on dates."

"Ah, I see." Hakoda makes a big show of reaching up and rubbing his beard in a manner that is obviously supposed to evoke _contemplation._ "So, what you're saying is, this is your boyfriend?"

Katara nods. "Pretty much."

"Uh huh…and do I have to anything to say about it?"

Katara shakes her head. "Not really, no."

He heaves a sigh, focuses his gaze on me.

"Then it's a good thing I happen to like the young man. Though," he takes a step forward, "him and I are going to have to have a talk at some point."

I laugh, and bow my head. "With all due respect, sir, your son already took care of that."

Hakoda turns on his son with a smile, while Sokka does his best to throw his chest out and beam. "Oh? Is that so?"

I nod with gusto. "Absolutely. Sat right on that stump outside of your house and sharpened a knife while making thinly veiled threats." I bow my head once more. "He was surprisingly intimidating."

Hakoda laughs, throwing an arm around his son and squeezing his shoulder. "Well, I'll be!" He socks his son in the arm, then pulls Sokka in for a quick hair ruffle. "Looks like I did something right!" He turns to regard Katara, beaming with pride. "Seems my children took care of themselves just fine." Finally, he turns his gaze upon me. "And, well, I suppose I'll let you hang around."

I resist the urge to bow again. I don't know why, but whenever I'm surrounded by the Water Tribe, the amount of bowing my people consider _polite_ just starts to feel…well…a little _absurd._ "If you don't mind. Katara and I have lots of grammar to catch up on."

Katara rolls her eyes and huffs. "Oh, _joy_."

Hakoda chuckles. "Well, now that _that's_ all settled, I see no reason why we can't go right into the party." He turns to his people, raises his hands in the air, and shouts, _"How does that sound?!"_

The entire tribe raises their voices in a deafening cheer, and suddenly I notice bottles of something that brings a foul sense memory to my tongue being passed around the crowd. Everyone's laughing and shouting and smiling and it sounds like the music as already begun, but all I can think are two plain, very simple words.

_Oh boy…_

* * *

See? Fluff. I told you. Also, I'd like to take a moment to think my lovely reader, storyoftheunknownfangirl, who kindly request that I not go through an "Odysseus shit," which inspired me to cut right back to the fluff. Also, the kindly BeakerPD, who was perceptive enough to notice that I've managed to cut down on the typos. In answer to your question, yes, I do have someone looking over my shoulder. My fiancée, you see, is an English teacher, and she kind of got sick of my typos. It only takes a few days of the love of your life gleefully calling out each mistake as she reads your work to encourage oneself to take a stronger interest in what one types.

So, yeah, we're going to spend some time in Fluffville for a while, since this is mostly what I started this story to do. Don't worry, though; I'll try my best to make it entertaining, enjoyable, and moderately well-written fluff. Hope you like it!

Also, today's my birthday! If one of you guys gets a poorly written message reply tonight, I apologize! I can guarantee that, past six or seven, I will be completely shit-housed. Woo!

In the next chapter, Sokka and Zuko sit on a roof, and while they can't quite explain how they got there, they do know that it's going to be a cinch to get down, because, after all, they got up there, didn't they? See? _Easy._ Stay tuned!


	26. Chapter 26

26. IT'S NIGHT. That's one thing that I know for sure. It's night and the stars are out and it feels just fucking _lovely._ Also, I'm sitting next to Sokka, and we're dangling our legs off the edge of a precipice, our feet kicking back and forth in the open air.

Also, we're on a roof. Did I mention that? I probably should have. I have no idea how we got up there. Does Sokka? I'll ask him.

"Hey, Sokka?"

He takes a drink from our current bottle and passes it back to me. "Hmm?"

I take a big gulp from the bottle, hand it back. "The fuck are we doing on a roof?"

He takes the bottle, leaning forward to peer down into the darkness below. "Wait…we're on a roof? How the fuck did we get here?"

I shrug, tossing away my cigarette and lighting a new one. "Didn't I just ask you that?"

He shrugs, takes a drink, hands the bottle back. That seems to be the routine that we've developed, pass a bottle back and forth until it runs dry, then toss it off the roof and rummage through the pack we brought up with us for another. _Maybe that's why we got on the roof? To toss bottles off of it? Okay, I get that, I do, but…__**how did we even get up here?**_

He shrugs, lets out a rather glorious belch. "I suppose you did. I dunno…doesn't matter." He looks off the edge again. "The real question is, how're we going to get down?"

"Meh, I imagine that would be pretty easy. I mean, we got up here, didn't we?"

"Who's to say we did? What if…fuck…what's her name again?"

"Who's name?"

"Crazy chick you and your uncle brought back, the one with the foul mouth?"

"Toph?"

He snaps his fingers. "Yeah, her, _Toph_. Right…what was I talking about again?"

"Something to do with Toph and how we got up here…? At least, I _think_ that's where you were going. Honestly, I don't see the connection."

"Heh…yeah, I think I kind of lost my train of thought, too…wait! I've got it!"

"Got what?"

"I was thinking that maybe what's-her-face-"

"Toph?"

"Yeah, whatever, anyways, I was thinking that maybe _she_ got us up here, like, earthbended us onto this roof somehow."

"Hmmm…well…while that _is_ something she would do, I don't imagine that explains how we came to have this bag of booze handy."

"Maybe we had it on us?"

"Yeah, but Toph would've stolen the bag before she put us up here."

"Really?"

"Girl can party."

"Right on…so, how did we get up here?"

"Well, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure Toph didn't have anything to do with it."

"Ugh, _fine_, so, what's your bright idea, _jerkbender._"

"Don't look at me. I'm the one who asked."

"_Exactly._ Therefore, you should know how we got up here."

"But then, why would I have asked?"

"The fuck should I know? I don't know how you Fire Nation twats operate."

"Hey! I'm not a twat!"

"You're dating my sister, I'm legally allowed by the most sacred laws to call you whatever I want."

"Alright, fine, I'll give you that, but not _twat_. I draw the line there."

"Then I'll be sure to use it more often."

"Fuck you."

_Pause._

"Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you get banished?"

"Ugh…look, Sokka, I love you, man, but I'm really not drunk enough to talk about that."

"Really? Then how drunk do I have to get you?"

"I don't think either of us would survive the experience."

"I don't think we've likely to survive _this_ experience."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, the only way I can see that we'll get down from here is if we just kind of…_roll off._"

"I dunno, it doesn't look too far…"

"Yeah, but with our luck, we'll break our necks or something, or, worse, you'll break your arm or whatever and I'll be perfectly fine and my sister will then proceed to kill me."

"Or, conversely-"

"_Conversely?_ The fuck does that even _mean?_"

"Of, for fuck's…what do they even _teach_ you kids down here?"

"So, what, every citizen of the Fire Nation knows what _conversely _means?"

"Since I just said it in your language, I would assume not."

"You know, this is _totally_ not what we were originally talking about."

"It's not? What were we talking about?"

"I was asking how you came to be banished, and you were saying that you're not drunk enough to talk about it."

"Huh…nice recall."

"Thanks! I consider myself something of a pro at being a drunken idiot."

"Gods know you get enough practice while you're sober."

"Hey!"

"Whatever, man, I'm dating your sister, which means that, if you're going to call me names, I get to fling them right back."

"Alright, _fine_, but I'm the fucking _Sarcasm Guy_ here."

"Why can't there be two Sarcasm Guys?"

"Because it just doesn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because it _doesn't_. I mean, there can't be…there can't be…_there can't be…"_

"Sokka?"

"Hmm?"

"Were you going somewhere with that?"

"Umm…you know, I honestly haven't the faintest fucking idea."

"Well, that makes two of us."

"Ah, bite me."

_Pause._

"Sokka?"

"Hmm?"

"Your dad likes me, right?"

"Yeah, sure, why wouldn't he?"

"I can think of a few reasons…"

"Yeah, but, don't worry about that. I mean, I get it, _you worry a lot_, like, _way too much_, it drives Katara up a fucking _wall_-"

"Really?"

"Well…yeah…why wouldn't it?"

"No, I mean…how would you know about it?"

"We're siblings, we talk."

"About me?"

"Dude, you're about all she _does_ talk about, most days. These past few months have been a real fucking buzz-kill, let me tell you."

"Ahh…sorry about that."

"Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop saying you're sorry all the gods-damn time! Yeesh."

"Ah…my bad?"

"Ugh…well, I guess that's better."

_Pause._

"Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"What're the girls like?"

"Umm…what're what girls like?"

"You know, _out there_, in the world, beyond this village."

"Eh…I dunno. They're…_girls?_ You should really ask Toph, she's probably gotten around more than I ever have."

"Oh, I am calling bullshit on that right here and now."

"What? It's true. You know that girl's crazy."

"Well, yeah, _obviously_, I'm pretty sure I saw her sneak off with one of the other girls not too long ago…but whatever, that's not what I'm calling bullshit on."

"Then what _are_ you calling bullshit on?"

"I'm calling bullshit on the idea that you've spent…what…almost _five fucking years_ wandering the world, and you never once noticed the girls?"

"Look, I'm not saying I didn't notice the girls, alright? I'm a _dude_, after all. It's just…well…"

"Dude…"

"What?"

"_Dude!"_

_ "What?!"_

_"You're a fucking __**virgin!**_"

"What? No I'm not!"

"Yes, you totally are!"

"Oh, for fuck's…no, I'm not, okay? At least, not _technically_, okay? I mean…look, I'm going to level with you here, okay?"

"Hold on, let me get this bottle open…"

"Fuck it, give it here. There, better?"

"Better. Now give it here."

"Fuck no, it's mine. Get your own."

"Hey! We're sharing!"

"And we'll share, if you promise to keep this to yourself."

"Ugh. _Fine._ Now, give it here. Alright, what're you leveling with me about?"

"I've…look, I'm not a virgin, alright? When I was sixteen, my father decided it was time for me to be a man, so he took me to this high-class brothel and said I wasn't to leave until I did the deed."

"So, you did?"

"Of course I did. I was far more terrified of my father than I was of any girl. But…yeah…that's pretty much the only time I've been with a girl."

"What, _seriously?_"

"What's so hard to believe about that?"

"I mean…you're this good looking dude, you travel from place-to-place, I mean…if I was in your shoes? _Gods_, man, I'd be going _crazy_."

"Yeah, but you'd also have to take the traumatic banishment and the horrific scar that used to look _way_ worse five years ago."

"Alright, _point_…dude, the fuck were we even talking about?"

"Umm…how to get off this roof?"

"Oh…right…how do we do that?"

"I dunno…I imagine it's just a matter of physics…"

"Huh? _Physics?_"

"By all the…seriously, what do they even _teach_ you assholes down here?"

"How to skin an animal in a matter of minutes?"

I blink a few times. "Alright, _point_."

"That's right…_ass._"

"Ugh, whatever. Pass me the fucking bottle."

"Fine, here you go. So, where was I…?"

"I haven't the least fucking clue, Sokka, honest to Agni."

"Heh…that makes two of us. So, anyways…"

And so it went. When I woke up in the morning, I was snoring away under the kitchen table at Katara's. Sokka was sprawled not a foot away, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Or, at least, he was, until Hakoda and my uncle burst in, talking loudly and banging things around and kicking us into something resembling a facsimile of life. I groaned and moaned and rubbed my temple and just in general felt like something had taken a particularly horrid shit inside my skull. My mouth was dry and every part of me ached and I had bruises I couldn't identify, and, to add insult to injury, I banged my head against the bottom of the table as I woke up, letting forth a string of curses in my native language, which only caused my uncle to burst into laughter and share a round of snide remarks with Hakoda about how _these young people just can't handle their drink anymore._ Hakoda, to his credit, seemed to be just as amused as my uncle was, and very carefully helped me out from under the table and to my feet. The two so-called _adults_ started making more loud comments and causing loud bangs, right up until a very hungover Katara burst out of what I assumed was her room and silenced everyone present with a glare. Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek and staggered back to her room.

So, yeah, that was nice. I still have no idea what we were doing on that roof, though. Sokka and I never did come up with an adequate explanation.

So, there chapter was fun to type, and for several reasons. For one thing, it's a call forward to what I'm going to be doing tonight, that is talking in endless circles with my new fiancée while we try to figure out just what the fuck we were talking about. For another, it's a call back to the time in college when my best friend and I woke up curled up in two lawn chairs on a mutual friend's front porch without the faintest idea of how we got there, which was all the more confusing because our last coherent memory was sitting on the edge of someone's roof, again debating how we got there.

_Ah, college…_

But yeah, that's it for today! The girl and I have pre-gaming to do! Also, probably food at some point, so I have something to throw up later. I'm pretty stoked. I only allow myself to get genuinely shit-housed two times a year: New Year's and my birthday. So, you know, it's a big day for me.

Plus, I'm now officially closer to thirty than twenty, which is pretty wiggy.

In the next chapter, which will be posted whenever I happen to come out of my drunken stupor, hopefully tomorrow, there will be fluff. Specifically, Zutara fluff. It's been too long. Stay tuned!


	27. Chapter 27

27. "YOU KNOW, ZUKO, I LIKE YOU, BUT I REALLY DON'T LIKE THIS BOOK."

We're sitting out by what we've come to think of as _Our Shed_. It's a beautiful day, the sun soft and warm and the air light and cool. It is, I'm told, a day to enjoy, to spend outside; there won't be many such days left, and when they're gone, they won't be back for a long, long time. That's a big reason why Katara and I have spent today's lesson outside, her reading from one of the books I brought back, me with my head in her lap. It's hard to stay focused; I lay there with my eyes closed, while she holds the book with one hand and softly plays with my hair with the other. Every once in a while, her fingers trail down over my face, and trace the outline of my scar. I don't flinch, though. It's relaxing, this simple, strangely intimate act. I'm not entirely sure why.

I open my eyes. She's closed the book, holding it up before her eyes, a look of strong disapproval etched into her features. Her other hand continues on its aimless wanderings through my hair, and I have to resist a sudden urge to – for lack of a better word – _nuzzle_ into the hand in question, choosing instead to focus on her statement.

"Really?" I ask, frowning. I put quite a bit of effort into both finding those books and selecting ones that I felt would challenge without overwhelming while also being pleasant to read. The idea that I dropped the ball on one is a bit…well…_distressing._ As should be obvious, it doesn't take much to deflate what little self-esteem I hold on to from day-to-day.

She sighs, looks down at me. She gives me a soft, sweet smile; somehow, I get the strange sensation that she's reading my mind.

"Don't worry, silly, it's not because it's _bad_ or anything." She leans down, gives me a peck on the forehead, sits back up. "No, you picked a good next step for me. It's just…well…" She turns her gaze back to the book, which she's laid on her knee. "It's hard to explain."

"Well…" I say, reaching up and taking the hand that's in my hair. I lay it on my chest, threading my fingers through hers, before continuing: "Good thing I'm a pretty good listener."

She squeezes my hand, a smile returning to her face. "Heh…you're cute, you know that?"

"So you and literally nobody else tells me."

"Hush. Still…what if I'm just reading it wrong?"

I roll my eyes at that. "Katara, how many times do I have to tell you? There is no _wrong_ way to read a book. If a book causes you to feel a strong sense of dislike, well…that's just how you happen to be reading the book."

She nods, processing the concept. "I suppose…but I'm still such a terrible reader. What if I'm just…_leaping to conclusions_, all because I can't really understand what I'm reading?"

I resist the temptation to perform another eye roll. "Katara, you're an _excellent _reader, _especially_ considering that we've only had…like…_two months_ of time to work on it, what with my little adventure to the Earth Kingdom interrupting things."

She turns her smile back on me. "You really think so?"

I nod. "Of course I do." It's not just love-struck bullshit, either; the progress she's made since that first day, seemingly so long ago, is astonishing. As usual, it all comes down to her own personal determination and force of will. Even when I was gone, she didn't slow down. According to Sokka, she's stay up late at night, sounding out each word of the book I'd left her, frowning and puzzling and grumbling until it made sense. She even managed to practice her writing, copying out entire pages of the book over and over again, and when she wasn't copying those pages or reading to herself, curled up in a corner of her bed by candlelight, she was reading to anyone who was willing to listen (or, in Sokka's case, _regardless of willingness to listen_). It's that will, that drive, coupled with her own fierce intelligence, that has brought her so far, so quickly.

Of course, there's still a lot of work to be done. If she's not copying something down, her grammar and spelling remain atrocious, and her handwriting shows no signs of improving (not that I have any room to judge, to be perfectly honest). Meanwhile, she still has a tendency to read like a kid, sounding out each word in a halting, unconfident voice, often following the words with her finger.

Not that I mind how she reads; honestly, I could listen to her read all day, and more than once, I have. And besides, all of that will be fixed with time and practice, as most things in life are.

"But," I say, returning to the present, "that's beside the point."

She pops an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. You, I believe, have a bit of a beef with the book you have there in your hand. I'd like to hear it."

She giggles. "I'm sure you would, but I'm not sure I'm quite done fishing for compliments."

"Hey, you gotta let me re-stock on those, otherwise, I'll run out." I throw her a wink. "I only have a limited amount of charm to dole out on any given day."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Heh…well…things do seem to work a little differently for me when I'm with you. But anyways, the book…"

She turns her gaze back on the book, furrowing her brow and nibbling her lip in a disturbingly distracting way. Seriously, why does she have to do that? It's almost like she _know_ it drives me crazy.

"It's just that…well…it's _racist_, Zuko."

At that, I reach up and grab the book from her knee, holding it over my face and flipping through the pages. "No shit?"

"No shit."

I frown. "I'm a little annoyed that I didn't catch that…"

"Well, that's the thing, an outsider _wouldn't_ catch it, not really. It's not racist against any of the other nations, at least not _blatantly_. No, it's…well…this book came from the North, right?"

I nod. "It did." I shoot her an apologetic look. "I'm afraid that the Southern Water Tribes just don't…well…write all that much."

She shrugs, waves my apology away. "Don't look sad, Zuko; it's not like it's your fault."

"Eh, it's still frustrating." I'm still leafing through the book, only, more slowly now. The more I think of it, the more irritated I am that I missed what Katara picked up on almost right away, almost as irritated as I am that I still can't quite see it. I don't doubt her; I know better than to do that. It's just…_aren't I supposed to be the educated one here?_

_ Heh…not like you'll be alone in that regard for much longer, the rate Katara's going…_

"So," I say, "don't take this the wrong way, because I don't think you're wrong at all, but would you mind showing me what you're talking about?"

She turns a bemused smile on me. "Are you, Zuko, asking me to teach you something?"

I laugh. "Don't I ask you to do that every weekend?"

"True…but it's not a weekend."

"Meh, close enough." I hold the book out to her, put a cute smile on my face. "Please?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, you." She snatches the book from my hands while I pull myself up into a seated position. We lean close to each other, one of my arms around her, while we both share in holding the book open on the space where our legs touch. I can't help but take a deep whiff of her hair as she settles into the new position. I honestly haven't the faintest idea how she does it (cosmetic products aren't exactly of the highest caliber among the Southern Water Tribes), but, somehow, her hair just always smells…well…_heavenly._ It may seem a little creepy, but I really just can't get enough of it. In my defense, though, I've caught her sniffing at me more than once, and I'd be lying if I tried to say I didn't enjoy the faint wispy smiles that crease her face at those moments.

Suddenly, Toph's voice erupts in my brain. _Ugh, you guys are, like, really fucking gross. You know that, right?_ I silently chuckle at the image before pushing it away. Meanwhile, in our shared lap, Katara is flipping through the pages, looking for one in particular. When she finds it, she slaps a finger down on the offending passage, and says, "Ah, here's one."

I look at where her finger's pointing, quickly reading the words. Realization is slowly beginning to dawn on me; really, I'm kind of irked that I didn't catch it sooner. "Ah," I say, frowning.

She nods, face determined. "_Exactly._ I mean, this is supposed to be a book about Avatar Kuruk, right? And you said it was just a short primer on his life, for kids?"

"Pretty much," I reply, "though it's more for…I dunno…_kids_ isn't exactly the word." I kiss her forehead. "_Big kids_ would be best, I think, but-"

She scrunches her nose at me. "You and your…what'd you call them? Ah, right, _semantics_. But, as I was saying, that's just the thing. Avatar Kuruk was Northern Water Tribe, right?"

I nod. "As far as I know, yes."

She starts to get more animated, leaning into her words, excitement thrumming in her voice. "And, from what I can tell, he didn't spend much time in the South, and this book was written for Northern kids, and I'm pretty sure he didn't even _do_ much in the South, like, at all, since I never even _heard_ of him before you gave this book. So…why in the hell does the writer feel the need to go off on a tangent about how much less advanced the South is than the North right here?"

I peer at the passage, read it again. We're not very far into the book, so, by extension, we're not very far into the story of Avatar Kuruk's life. The gist of the passage seems to be that, when Kuruk first began to exhibit signs of being a waterbending prodigy, the Southern Water Tribes offered to send a few master waterbenders, so that the future Avatar would know both Northern and Southern styles of waterbending (though, what the actual difference is, I haven't a clue; I just know that Katara insists that the difference is there, and that it's rather large). This offer, it appears, was declined, which, I would think, would be the end of the story.

_Only, it's…well…__**not…**_

"Huh," I say, in a bit of a distracted mutter.

Katara nods, obviously pleased that I see what she sees. "And that's not the end of it, either."

"I can see that," I say. "The writer goes on for, like, a whole other _page_ about this whole issue."

"Which, correct me if I'm wrong, is kind of stupid. I mean, what's the point? South shows up, makes an offer, is declined…really, there's no reason to even put it there, except to make the point that the North is all mighty and the South is nothing but a land of half-savage barbarians."

I purse my lips. "Well, I dunno if it's quite _that_ bad…"

Her eyes fly wide. "Oh, but it is! See, right here: _Unlike in the more settled North, the Southern Water Tribes still feel the need to force their women to learn combat waterbending._ What he's basically saying is, _The Southerners are so savage, even their women learn how to fight._ And then, here, _It was also feared that the Southerners would have difficulty communicating with the highly educated Avatar_, by which the writer means, _Those fucking Southerners, speaking their bastard form of our language, probably can't even read._" At that, she slams the book with a huff, crossing her arms and settling deeper into me. "So, yeah, see what I mean? Fucking _racist._"

I take the book and toss it onto the grass before us, after which I wrap my arms more tightly around her and rest my chin on the top of her head. "That's…um…" I struggle for words; Katara's just revealed to me a reality that I never knew expected. "That's…kind of mind-blowing."

"Oh? How so?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I guess I just…never had any idea that the two halves of the Water Tribe disliked each other that much…"

She heaves a heavy sigh. "Yeah…it's something we don't really like to talk about with outsiders, which is why you didn't pick up on it. It's just…the North has always been more advanced, settled, _civilized_, at least as they see it, and they've always looked down their noses at us." She frowns, jutting out her jaw in a slightly haughty pose. "Which, in my opinion, is stupid. If anything, _we_ should be looking down on _them_. I mean, did you know they still practice arranged marriages up there?"

I chuckle. "Hey, my people still do arranged marriages. I myself was locked into one, before I was banished."

She smiles. "You poor thing." She tilts her head up and kisses the bottom of my chin, her hair tickling the skin on my throat and sending a shiver up my spine. "Though, is it for everyone, or just the nobility?"

I ponder that for a moment. "You know…I'm not entirely sure, though I _think_ it's just for the upper classes. Don't quote me on that, though. I'd have to ask my uncle."

She nods. "Right, well, thing is, in the North, they do that for _everyone_. Can you believe that? _Nobody_ gets a say. And they call _us_ barbaric? _Please."_

"You know," I say, reaching up and brushing her cheek, "you know an awful lot about the Northern Water Tribes."

She shrugs. "Well, I should. My Gran-Gran came from there…fleeing an arranged marriage, oddly enough. That happens more often than you'd think, people from the North coming down here to get out of some kind of loveless match that they don't want." Her frown returns. "Or, at least, they used to, before things got so bad in the world."

"Hmmm…you know, I think I need to get to know your Gran-Gran a bit more. I know I've met her, but I don't really feel like I've…you know…_met her._"

She giggles. "You know…that's exactly what she was saying the other day!"

I laugh, give her a squeeze. "Oh, is that so?"

"Yup!" I look down into the smile that's forming on her face, and instantly get that strange, sinking, free-falling feeling one gets when one walks into a trap, a sensation confirmed by her next sentence: "In fact, she was just saying that we need to have you and your uncle over for a nice, quiet family dinner."

I try not to gulp, I really do. _"Oh…?"_

"You bet! In fact…how does tomorrow night sound? Think you can bring some of that _sake_? My dad's always wanted to try some."

"Uh…sure…I mean…umm…I'll have to make sure I'm available-"

"Excellent! I can't wait! I'll tell Gran-Gran to throw out all the stops for the food! Now," she continues, snatching the book up from the ground and quickly finding where she left off, "where were we…"

She spends a few minutes tracing the words, going back over what she had just read, frowning and clucking her tongue at what is now obviously a rather biased, unfair, and unbalanced text that I'm still a little annoyed at, when she stops, looks up at me, and says, "Hey, think I should invite Toph, too?"

I don't have to think about it for so much as a second.

_"Absolutely not."_

* * *

Hey, look, Zutara fluff! I'll be cramming a lot more of that in here over the next few chapters…or probably more than a few. But I'm gathering followers at a much faster rate than I did with _A Different Path_, so I have no choice but to assume that you guys like it. Woo!

So, funny thing about being a teacher: You never have to reassure the bad kids. Terrible students are typically terrible precisely because they don't give a shit how they're doing. Either they assume they're just that awesome, or they just really don't care. It's the good students, the _great_ students, the ones who actually care and work hard, that you find yourself constantly reassuring. Katara's a confident, composed, self-assured person (to an extent; there's a reason her and Zuko get along), but she's still just like anyone else learning a new skill, in that she doesn't yet know enough to know when she's doing well, so she finds herself constantly deprecating herself.

Plus, we all fish for compliments from our significant others, both guys and girls, though are quite as shameless – or as skillful – as my fiancée. Seriously, that girl can snatch compliments in her sleep.

Also, before anyone says, _Hey, the Water Tribes don't hate each other_, yes, they do, or at the very least, they don't get along very well. I mean, for one thing, just look at how, when they reach the North Pole, Aang gets treated way better and accepted much more easily than either Sokka or Katara are, and nevermind the fact that the two tribes actually end up going to war with each other in LOK. So, you know, there's some tension there.

Anyways…where was I? Oh, right, _stuff._

In the next chapter, we're going to check in real quick with Toph, just in time to see her kick Zuko's ass at skipping rocks into the ocean, which, let's face it, Zuko _really_ should've seen coming. Oh, and they talk about some stuff. Probably. Stay tuned!


	28. Chapter 28

28. WE'RE SKIPPING ROCKS WHEN TOPH ASKS A QUESTION I DON'T EXPECT.

In retrospect, challenging Toph to a contest of rock-skipping wasn't the best idea I've ever had. Indeed, as poorly-thought-out ideas go, it definitely ranks among the bottom ten (which is saying something). In my defense, I arrived at this moment of humiliation through what I feel was a solid sequence of logical steps. It is generally accepted that, in order to properly skip rocks, one needs a degree of balance, control, and, most importantly, the ability to actually see the body of water that one is skipping rocks over. While Toph has a surprisingly well-developed sense of balance, anyone who's talked to her for more than five minutes would be able to see that _control_ is something she actively spits on, and as for the last thing one needs to skip rocks, well…blind people in general aren't widely known for their ability to see shit. So, when she found me skipping rocks into the sea one day at sunset, I felt fairly confident in the idea that, not only could I trick her into a contest, but that I could _win_ said contest, and maybe, potentially, _possibly_, finally get the last word in on the girl. This idea was further supported when, during the first fifteen minutes or so after she joined me, when I thought I was teaching her, she showed a remarkable lack of skill.

Like I said, in retrospect, this was a tragically flawed chain of thought. Any idiot would be able to see that I was the one being played. Alas, I am not just _any idiot_, but a special, unique breed of idiot, secure only in the knowledge that I'm not as much of an idiot as Sokka, if only because I, at least, remember that Toph is blind.

_None of which helps me now…_

I watch my latest throw going skipping off into the distance. I count each jump, my heart thumping away in my throat. _One…two…three…_ I threw my all into this toss, taking a good two or three minutes to set up. _Four…five…_ I crouched down, took deep, calming breaths, even made sure to _flick_, not _toss_, even remembered the special little sideways flick that my cousin taught me when I was a kid. _Six…seven…eight…nine…_ The rock disappears beneath the waves, and a feeling of elation floods over me. _Nine! Fuck yeah, nine! _Nine's pretty good. Not even Toph has beat nine yet.

She's standing beside me, tossing a stone up and down in her hand. I'm a bundle of nerves, but her? She's calm, relaxed, feet spread, looking like she doesn't have a care in the world. _As fucking usual…_ "So," she says, smiling, "what was that? Nine?"

I laugh. "Fuck yeah, it was nine. Beat _that._"

She scoffs. "Alright. Watch this." And then, with all the care and finesse of a landslide, she tosses her rock out to sea. With each skip, my heart sinks, and when it finally disappears on the _thirteenth fucking skip_, I know for a fact that I've been played. I round on her, fists clenched, teeth grinding against each other.

"How is that even fucking _possible?!_"

She shrugs, taking a moment to examine her perpetually dirt-crusted and cracked fingernails. "What can I say? I guess it's just beginner's luck."

I stomp my feet. I know I look like a child throwing a tantrum, but I just can't help it. "_Bull. Fucking. __**SHIT.**_ That shouldn't even be fucking _possible!_"

She clucks her tongue, her shit-eating grin growing wider and more smug with each passing second. "You know, Zuko, your uncle's right, we really do need to work on your language."

At that, my patience finally snaps. I let out a strangled cry, pulling at my hair and uttering a string of blistering curses in nearly every language that I know. Toph, meanwhile, just watches me, that same _stupid fucking smile_ on her face. I swear, she practically _giggles_ to herself as I finally run out of steam and plop myself down with a huff, running my hands through my hair and shaking my head, still unable to believe just how badly she's beaten me. Then, as if to add insult to injury, she clucks her tongue before tossing a final rock out across the water. She doesn't even bother watching it, just sits herself down right next to me and fishes my cigarettes out of my pocket without so much as a _by your leave_.

I watch the stone, though. I shouldn't, and I don't particularly want to, but I just can't help myself. _Self-flagellation_ has always been one of my more developed skills.

_Fifteen. Fifteen gods-damn skips. What the actual __**fuck**__?_

Without bothering to argue, I bend a flame from the tip of my finger, holding it out to her so she can light her cigarette. She takes a long, satisfied-looking puff before handing the pack to me, so that I can follow her lead.

_Fifteen. How does one even…__**fifteen?! GAH!**_

"So," she says, still smiling like the cat that got the canary, "what's Sugar Queen up to tonight?"

I laugh, smoke shooting out of my nose. How could I now? _"Sugar Queen?_ Where'd you come up with that one?"

"Well," she says, lapsing into a contemplative tone, "she's kind of bossy, but sweet, and the way you two are together is enough to give someone teeth rot. Thus, Sugar Queen."

I roll the nickname around in mouth a bit, testing it out. I'd never in a million years use it, but, somehow…_it fits._ "You know…I like it."

She scoffs. "Of course you do. I came up with it."

"One of these days, Toph, we're going to have to find a way to bottle that self-confidence of yours. We'd make a killing."

"I've had the same thought myself, once or twice."

"Of course you have."

"But, the thing is, this much awesome?" She waves her hands around her body, as if to dissipate some of that same _awesome_. "Not everyone can handle it. Not everyone _should _handle it."

"So," I say, mulling the concept over, "you're afraid it'll end up killing someone?"

She laughs. "Shit, Sparky, _I'm_ surprised that I haven't managed to kill anyone over the years." She looks at me out of the corner of her eyes (_and don't ask me how she manages to look at people, because I really don't fucking understand it myself)_, a curious glimmer in her eyes (_another expression I'd rather no one asked me explain_). "Have you?"

I lay back in the sand, one arm pillowed beneath my head. "Have I want?"

"You know, killed someone?"

I sigh. Unpleasant images flicker before my eyes. "Yeah…I have."

Her eyes go wide. "No shit?"

I nod. "No shit."

"Mind if I ask who?"

I shrug. The sand is cool beneath me, with a clean, freshly-washed smell. I like the sand here, I really do. It reminds me of Ember Island, of my family's beach house there. There's this one beach, not far from the villa, completely sealed off from the world. The sand is always warm and soft, and flashes a blinding white in the sun. Except for sunrise and sunset, though. Then, the sand sparkles a thousand shades of red and pink and orange, like a bed of candles, shimmering in the dying light. No one ever went there, because it was hard to get to, and besides, that part of the island is off-limits to anyone who's not either a member of the Royal Family or one of their invited guests. I used to go there, late in the evening or, sometimes, early and the day, and watch the sun rise or fall, whatever went with the time. No one ever bothered me there, no one ever yelled at me or judged me or looked at me with that…that…_that look_ that my father used to save, just for me.

Though now…I can't help but think that, now that I've got friends, I'd like to take them there with me. They'd like it. We'd have good times.

_Or maybe I'd just take Katara…_

"Zuko?"

I blink, pulling myself back to the present. "Ah, I'm sorry, I drifted off there for a moment."

She scoffs. "I noticed. But it's cool, you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I wave the offer away in a twirl of smoke. "Nah, I don't mind. I mean…I do, I'm not proud, but…sometimes, it's either you or them, and you have to do what you have to do. So…yeah, I've killed people. Pirates, mostly."

She nods. "What was up with all the pirates? Your crew talks about that shit all the time."

"Meh…when I was banished, I was given…well…a really stupid mission, a snipe hunt, really."

"A snipe hunt?"

"Yeah. A snipe is…like…this bird that doesn't exist. When you want little kids to leave you alone, you tell them to go look for snipes. That way-"

"They fuck off for a while," she finishes, "because there is no snipe. So, what's that to do with pirates?"

"I'm getting to that. Basically, after about a year, I noticed that there were pirates all over the place, doing what pirates do, and I figured…well…I realized that I was on a snipe hunt, and I figured that hunting pirates would be a more productive use of my time. So, my crew and I started hunting pirates."

"And how'd that go?"

"Surprisingly easy. Most pirates will either run or give up; they're in it for the easy score, after all, and most figure it's easier to bust or bribe their way out of prison than go up against a fully armed warship. But…some…"

"Some decide to stand and fight."

I nod, face grim. "Yeah, pretty much. Those fights can get ugly."

There's a long pause. We both finish our cigarettes, and then she stretches herself out, mimicking my pose. We both clasp our hands behind our heads and look up at the stars just being to spark to life high above us. Beyond our feet, the waves roll in. There's not much of a breeze, so the waves are small, barely there, a rhythmic whisper at the edges of our consciousness. It really is a nice night, even if there's just enough of a bite to the air to let one know that winter is, indeed, well on its way. I close my eyes, allow myself to drift with the world, until Toph's voice pulls me back.

"Hey, Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Come on," I say, laughing, "you're, like…the little sister I always wanted." _Not that takes much doing; all you have to do is not actively plot my demise, and you're in._ "You can ask me anything."

She frowns. There's a nervous tremor in her voice that I've never imagined would be possible coming from. "Yeah, I know, but…you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I roll my eyes. "Well, you have to ask the question before I can decide not to answer it."

She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Alright, fair enough. So…Zuko? Do you have a scar?"

I blink in confusion, feeling a little lost. _Do I have a scar?_ "Ummm…yeah, several. There's the one in my shoulder, from an arrow I got shot with last winter, and then there's-"

She sighs, turns to me. "No, I mean, _on your face."_

_Ah._ "Mind if I ask why you want to know?"

She sighs once more, turns her gaze back to the sky. Not for the first time, I wonder what she sees. Does she have any idea that there are stars scattered around up there, a thousand-thousand sparkling lights pricking through a vast, soft blackness? If she does, how does she picture them? How does she imagine them? Does she even think about them? One of these days, I decide, again, not for the first time, I'll have to ask her.

"Well," she says, that hesitant hitch growing stronger in her words, "it's just…I was hanging out with Katara and some of her friends the other day, just talking about this and that, nothing special. But then, there's this other girl, I forget her name, who just kind of…invited herself into the circle, and everyone tensed up right away. I guess Katara and her don't get along or something, and right away, this girl just starts being a real _bitch._ Like, just out of the blue. And Katara being Katara, she just kind of ignores it, because she's not the kind of girl to let some random twat get under her skin-" She pauses, turns back to me, smiling. "Which I totally respect, by the way. I can see why you like her."

I smile up at the stars. "Right? Part of me hopes that some of that rubs off on me."

She scoffs, turns back to the sky. "It'd do you some good, that's for sure."

"Heh…tell me about it. So, anyways…"

"Right! Anyways, Katara's just ignoring this girl, and the girl is getting more and more irritated, and I'm about ready to just pick her up and toss her out, because it's starting to get rather pathetic, when suddenly, this girl starts talking about you."

My ears prick up at that. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Basically, she just starts making these snide comments about you, things which show she obviously doesn't know you, and again, Katara just kind of rolls her eyes – at least, that's what I imagine, I don't get how you can _roll your eyes_-"

"You should, you do it all the time."

"I do?"

"Totally. That and scoffing are basically your primary methods of emoting."

"Huh…imagine that…so, anyways, Katara's still blowing her off, and finally, the girl just stands up and outright asks how Katara can stand to kiss you, when half your face looks like dried shit, and how apparently your left eye is all white and glassy, and your left ear is all fucked up, and just all of this…this _shit._"

I sigh, my heart sinking a little bit in my chest. It's not the first time someone's said something like that about me, or even the worst thing someone's said about me. I still remember how Azula put it, almost five years ago.

_Those words still make me cringe…_

I push the memory away before it can take form, focus my attention on Toph. "So," I say, trying to keep my tone light and airy, "I take it you did something crazy and potentially harmful at that point?"

Toph laughs. "I thought about it, but I didn't get to, because before I could even really process what the girl had said, Katara hauled off and fucking bitch-slapped her."

I sit up at that, mouth hanging wide open. _"No."_

She nods, smiling. "I shit you not. I couldn't see it, but from the sound of it, it was fucking _epic_. Sugar Queen, without a word, just slapped the shit out of this chick, and then proceeded to bitch her out in just the calmest, most frightening manner I've ever heard. I mean, she didn't scream or shout or curse or anything, but still…" She gives a little shudder. "It was pretty cold, let me tell you what."

I nod, slowly, trying not to feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "I can believe it." I savor the mental image for a few moments, before saying, "So, I gotta ask…as satisfying of a scene as that is, what does it have to do with your question?"

"Hey, aren't you the asshole who's always counseling patience?"

Now it's my turn to scoff. "No, you're confusing me with my uncle."

She laughs. "Heh…yeah, I suppose so. _Anyways_, so, yeah, the girl just kind of…_slinks off_ after that, and all of Katara's friends do this little round of cheers and applause, and I can tell that Katara's not happy at all, her heart's racing, like, a mile-a-minute, I mean, she's still fucking _pissed_, but she's starting to calm down and…well…I tried to hold off, I really did, but finally I just had to ask: _Wait…Sparky has a scar?_" She falls silent for a moment, then says, "And Katara told me that I'd just have to ask you. So…here we are."

I nod, collecting my thoughts. I'm not entirely sure what to say. I've never disliked Toph, never even really had a problem accepting her into my life. It's kind of like my uncle and Sokka and Katara and my crew and everyone else: Once I released how empty my life really was, before I was thrown out into the world, it was just…it was just so _easy_ to start letting these people in, to start letting them fill it up. Once I stopped fighting it, they all just kind of…_slid into place_. But, still, in all that time, I don't think I've ever really appreciated anyone as much as I appreciated Toph Bei Fong in that moment, lying on a beach, looking up the stars coming to life in the gathering darkness.

Finally, I speak.

"Yes, Toph, I do have a scar, and, as much as I had to admit it, that girl gave a pretty decent description of it."

She nods. "I see…though, of course, I don't. It can't be _that_ bad, but whatever, what do I know, right? Still…I take it it's big?"

I nod. "It covers most of the left side of my face, from my cheek up to my hair line. And yes, my left eye is all weird and white, because it was blinded in the same…the same…the same _incident_ that scared me. So…yeah, I have a nasty scar on my face."

"Huh." That's all she says for a few moments, just that, _huh_. Then, her face brightens, and she says, a strange level of excitement in her voice, almost…_girly_, though, really, _that can't be true_, "Hey, no wonder we get along!"

I chuckle. "What do you mean?"

"You're half like me!"

I have to laugh at that. "My dear, no one can even be a _tenth_ like you."

She rolls her eyes, giggling. "You know, Sparky, one of these days, I'm going to meet a cute girl with big tits who drops cheesy lines like you do, and I'm going to be fucking _set_."

I reach into my pocket, and begin pulling out two cigarettes.

"You know, my dear, if I had a drink, I'd toast to that." I light the cigarettes, hand one to her, and smile. "Here's to Toph's dream girl, _She of the Big Tits and the Cheesy Lines_."

Toph takes the cigarette, giggles, and says, "_Wansui_ to that, Sparky."

I nod. _"Wansui._"

* * *

That was fun! I like Toph! In the series, Toph and Zuko start to develop this fun little, big brother/little sister dynamic. He's really the only member of the Gaang to truly treat her as a person; even Katara, God love her, had a tendency to talk down to the kid. Plus, Zuko really does need a little sister, even one as foul-mouthed and crazy as Toph, and, let's face it, Toph needs a big brother, or at least an adult who doesn't expect anything of her, just accepts her _as is._

If anyone finds it hard to believe that Toph can skip rocks like that, well…you'd be amazed at what supposedly _disabled_ people can do, when they set their minds to it. Or anyone, really.

Why is Zuko being coy? He's not, he just doesn't like to talk about what happened to him. Would you? Besides, we all know he's going to spill to Katara first, and she's pretty much going to be the only person who never asks about it.

For those playing the home game, _wansui_ is the Chinese equivalent of _banzai_, in that it basically means, _a thousand years_, or, in short, _to your health._ I found that out while researching _banzai_, which will be important later; be sure to look for it.

I had something else to ramble about here…but whatever. I really like this chapter, and I really like how the next one is shaping up. Now, on with the show!

In the next chapter, it all started out innocently enough, really, Zuko and Katara swear, _honest_. Stay tuned!


	29. Chapter 29

29. IT ALL STARTED INNOCENTLY ENOUGH. Or, at least, I think it did. I'm reasonably sure. I definitely didn't leave the house that day intending for that to happen. I mean, all I meant to do was spend a morning working on the ship with my crew, and having some _Bro Time_ with Sokka along the way, because he loves working on things like that, he's kind of an _idiot savant_ with machines, and sure, Katara found us and suggested what she suggested, but even then, I didn't have an _ulterior _motives.

Honest.

I swear.

_It was just a sparring match…_

_**Really…**_

So, yeah, working on the ship. Contrary to how it may look, my sole occupations during the two months which had passed since my return from the Earth Kingdom did not consist entirely of tutoring Katara and throwing rocks with Toph. I did many other things as well. For example, there was what Sokka and I called _Bro Time_, during which we hung out, drank, and he made an attempt at teaching me the fundamentals of fishing (which, by the way, I lacked the patience for). There were also dates with Katara, dinners with Katara's family (during which Katara's grandmother took endless pleasure in teasing me), capering about with Toph, trying (failing) to keep my uncle from embarrassing me, and, last but not least, there was the ship.

The ship took up my time every other weekday afternoon, when Katara was taking advantage of the return of the tribe's master waterbenders to work on her waterbending. That's where I was on that particular day, working in what had once been the ships komodo-rhino pens. Myself and several of my crew were working on converting the area from an animal pen into a kind of living space, with accommodations for at least a dozen families.

Oh, yeah, and there was Sokka, who was hard at work holding up jury-rigged walls that I would then use firebending to weld into the floor.

"So, Zuko, you said this used to be the komodo-rhino pens, right?"

I look up at him, and I won't lie, I might've been glaring a bit. I had about five or six nails in my mouth, my teeth biting down hard on the heads, and I'd spent an ungodly amount of time that afternoon crouched down on my hands and knees, doing the aforementioned welding. I considered spitting the nails out into his face, but I took the higher road of giving an affirmative-sounded grunt and going back to work.

He nods appreciatively, looking around at the progress that we've made. "So, where did all the komodo-rhinos go?"

I finish my current weld, before spitting the nails into my hand and throwing a little more effort into my glare. "Look, buddy, do you mind holding the questions until _after_ I'm done?"

He shrugs. "Just asking a question, no reason to get your panties in a wad…"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. In answer to your question, yes, this used to be the komodo-rhino pens. Every Fire Nation ship has them, but the thing is, komodo-rhinos are expensive to maintain. There's the cost of feeding, and they shit all over the place, and they're just in general a pain. If your ship is an actual part of the navy, you can afford the effort, but when you're us…well…"

He nods, following along quite easily. "So, you guys never bothered to use it that way."

"Pretty much."

"So," he says, looking around again, "what _have_ you used it for?"

I shrug, dropping the nails into my pocket and sitting back on my ankles. "Well…this and that, really. For example, whenever we took down a pirate ship, we typically stored all the loot in here, and we'd typically chain up any prisoners in here, too. And whenever we were doing some trading, we'd toss all the shit in here, too. But we never got around to…well…_doing anything_ with the space. I mean, all the pens were still intact when we started."

"Right, I gotcha." He points down at the welds I've done. "So, you gonna finish up, or what? I'm hungry."

I roll my eyes. "You're always hungry, Sokka."

He grins. "Hey, what can I say? I'm consist."

I laugh. "Tell that to you last girlfriend." I adopt a thoughtful pose. "What was her name? Akna? Oh, no, that's not right…that was last time I was here…or, wait, was that Kirima…" I ponder for a few moments more, before snapping my fingers through the air. "I got it! Nerrivik! That's your current girl! Or was that your last? I get confused…"

He pinches his nose, groaning. "Alright, alright, I get it." He reaches down and makes an attempt to ruffle my hair. "You made your point, _ass_."

I swat his hand away. "Hey, leave the hair alone."

His face turns mischievous. "Then leave my sister alone."

I cross my arms. "Not gonna happen."

He shrugs. "Then I guess your hair is fair game." He laughs, shaking his head. "Besides, it's not like anyone would notice if your hair got messed up. I swear, it's like a shaggy mop."

I laugh. Man has a point. "Hey, your sister likes it."

He sighs. "Yeah, well, that's hardly an unbiased perspective. My sister also thinks you have a cute butt."

"Better than yours."

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that, buddy."

"I believe I just told it to you."

"Gods…there's no winning with you, is there?"

"I know, right? Your poor butt. It never had a chance."

"Ah, blow me."

"Isn't that Nerrivik's job?"

His face falls, a forlorn expression bleeding from his eyes down to his very toes. "I wish. She says it's dirty, refuses to do it."

I lean back in confusion. "But…wait…didn't she, like, put out on the first date?"

He leans forward, hands spread. "I know, right? But no, she draws the line at that."

"Huh." I shift my position; resting on my ankles was starting to get a little uncomfortable. I settle myself down to the floor, running a hand through my hair. "Well, you gotta draw a line somewhere, I suppose."

He shrugs, leans against the half-welded wall. "Yeah, I suppose. Probably serves me right, anyways, jumping around like I do."

I wag a finger at him, cast my voice into a terrible imitation of his grandmother. "_Now, Sokka, what you need to do is just settle down with one nice girl, then you won't have these problems anymore!"_

He rolls his eyes and pinches his nose. "You have just _got_ to stop spending so much time with my family. This is getting fucking _absurd_."

I shrug, chuckling. "Hey, it's not my fault that your grandmother's cooking kicks ass."

"Heh…I'll have to tell her to tone it down a bit." He tilts his head, an amused glimmer in his eyes. "Or, I could just tell Dad to make sea prunes again."

I grimace at that. The unforgettable memory brings forth all kinds of unpleasant sensations on my tongue. "Yeah…please don't. That would be as much of a punishment for you as it would be for me."

He laughs. "Tell me about it. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad, but the man should never be allowed anywhere near a stove."

I conjure up the image of my uncle, popping one of the sea prunes into his mouth and spending the next five minutes trying to not blatantly choke on it, and have myself a nice little chuckle. "I dunno…it would be fun to watch my uncle try to compliment the dish while hiding the fact that he's trying to scrape his tongue clean."

"Heh…that was priceless." He heaves a sigh, then points down at the welds. "Well, as fun as this is, I guess we should finish this at some point today."

I sigh. "Yeah, I suppose…I don't know why they keep letting us work together."

"Heh…we pretty much never get anything done."

I shake my head. "No, we get _plenty_ done, just so long as you don't apply normal human standards for _getting shit done_ to our progress."

He nods. "True. I mean, it you compared us to a crew of dead guys, we'd be top of the class."

"I dunno about that," a feminine voice calls from up above. "I'm pretty sure that a crew of dead left _feet_ could work faster than you two."

We look up, both breaking into happy smiles. There, up on the deck, looking down into the hold through the opened loading doors, is Katara, sitting on the edge, swinging her feet back and forth in the air. She's got a big, bright grin on her face, and, as usual, just the sight of her makes me feel about twenty pounds lighter and a good foot taller.

"I dunno," I reply, motioning for Sokka to pull me to my feet, which he does, "I mean, how would dead left feet even _form_ a crew much less do work?"

She shrugs, obviously amused at the image of severed left feet welding shit (or, at least, that's what I assume). "I'm pretty sure they'd work it out if they had to. Point is, if they did _nothing_, they'd still get things done more quickly than you guys."

"Maybe," Sokka says, throwing an arm around me and pulling me in for a manly side hug, "but I'm pretty sure that we have more fun than they would."

I tap my chin in thought. "Would dead left feet even be able to _have_ fun? I mean, don't you need, like, a mind and a soul to have fun?"

Katara rolls her head around, thinking it over. "Well, animals have fun, don't they? Go watch the otter-penguins race each other in the winter, and tell me that they aren't having fun."

"Maybe," I reply, "but otter-penguins do have _minds_, which is something that a severed left foot would lack."

"How's to say they're severed?" Sokka observes. "I mean, if we're accepting that they've already formed a work gang to compete against us, then surely they have some sort of intelligence, whether or not we understand how it's possible."

"But the whole point of the comparison," Katara calls down, trying to contain her giggles, "is that a bunch of dead left feet piled up in a corner of the room would be more productive than you. If it's an actual contest, then the joke doesn't work."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "I have _got_ to put a stop to this whole education process. Arguments with you are becoming even less fun than they already were."

"I dunno," I say, "I'm having fun."

Sokka laughs. "Of course you were, you two are, like, crazy for each other. You think everything you do together is fun."

Katara makes a face. "Then you apparently have never watched him make me do grammar practice. There's nothing about that that's _fun_."

I laugh. "That's true, but then again, we can't spend _all_ of our time reading that adventure story I brought back."

Katara gives me a look that's hard to describe. Rather than describe that, I'd rather describe what it did to me: Basically, it made my mind go blank, all while waking up certain up-until-then-dormant portions of my anatomy. Did I mention the blood rush to my head? Because that happened, too.

"I dunno, Zuko," she says, voice thick and, for lack of a better word, _steamy_, "I'm pretty sure I could get you to along with that."

I blink, once, twice, three times, while beside me, Sokka rolls his eyes and makes gagging noises in the back of his throat. Finally, I say, "I'm sure you could…" I give myself a shake, pushing all the images that my mind conjured up into the back of my mind, where they belonged (_at least for the time being_), and said, "So, Katara, I gotta ask…aren't you supposed to be…like…_waterbending_ right now?"

She laughs. "What, like you two were getting anything done before I showed up?"

Sokka huffs. "Hey, we were _about_ to get back to work."

She rolls her eyes. "So, you were going to go back to holding up walls while _Zuko_ worked?"

He shrugs. "Hey, holding up walls is hard work. In fact," he continues, eyes gleaming, "I'm thinking that it's time to get a bite to eat."

I shake my head, chuckling. "You fucking _would_, you glutton. How you're not a whale in human form, I'll never quite understand."

"He's about as active as one," Katara observes.

"Hey!" is Sokka's response to that.

"But," Katara replies, after sticking her tongue out at her brother, "that's neither here nor there. The point is, yes, I was in waterbending lessons, but we had to break it up early, because the teacher's wife went into labor, which put a damper in things."

I nod. "I can see that. But what about that brought you here?"

"Well," she says, brushing some stray hair from her face, which causes me a brief moment of distress, because of course it does, "the thing is, I was all set for, like, a whole bunch of awesome waterbending today, and guess what? _I didn't get to do that_. So, I figured I'd come down here, and find out if my lovely, awesome boyfriend was up for a spar."

Sokka scratches his head. "But…Zuko's a firebender. How does that help you?"

Katara sighs. "Because _I'm_ the one who'll be waterbending, idiot."

Sokka frowns. "Against Zuko? But…isn't that…I dunno…_dangerous?_"

Katara shoots him a rather venomous look. "You actually think Zuko would hurt me?"

"Or that Katara would even give me the chance to do so?" I point out.

Sokka shrugs, still scratching the back of his head, muttering something under his breath that I can't quite make out, before saying, "Well, whatever, you two go have fun. I'm gonna go find some grub."

Sokka makes his exit at that point, still grumbling. I'm a bit confused, to be honest. I mean, it's not like Katara and I would whip out any killing moves on each other, and we're both good enough to keep anyone from getting hurt, so what's he worried about?

I mean, it's just an innocent little sparring match. I swear.

Honest.

Would this face lie?

Which is how I came to be standing on a deserted stretch of beach, out beyond the edge of the village. The sky was clouded over, and the wind blowing in from the ocean was a few degrees short of frigid, thick with the taste of salt and endlessness. Despite the cold, though, I was stripped down to my pants; once I started bending, my body temperature would rise quite rapidly. Katara herself was dressed simply, as if for summer; as she'd explained it to me once, when she got into a bending groove, she just didn't _feel_ the cold anymore.

I tried to ignore the fact that she was pretending not to stare at my chest, just like she tried to ignore the fact that I was trying not to trace the curves of her body with my eyes. We were both doing a lot of ignoring of obvious things just then.

_Or, at least, trying to…_

We both began with gathering forms. A _gathering form_ is exactly what it says on the tin: Movements designed to gather energy. Just like it's unwise to go for a run without stretching, it's unwise to attempt to bend without first gathering and storing energy. This enables you to avoid erratic opening moves, and allows you to enter your _groove_ before you complete your first offensive form.

It also means that, if you do it right, you can disguise your first attack as just another gathering form, catching your opponent off guard, which is how Katara almost ended the fight right then and there. I really never saw it coming; the water whip was almost completely wrapped around my ankle before I caught it out of the corner of my eye and turned it into steam with a small fireball, quickly rolling away from the attack.

At that point, the match was on.

We moved slowly at first, testing each other out. We had never actually sparred together before; I'm not entirely sure why, though. To be honest, I'd always wanted to. Everyone went on and on about how good of a waterbender Katara was, and I know my uncle and my crew liked to brag about my own skills, but neither of us had had the chance to test it out for ourselves.

_Or maybe we were just avoiding it…_

_ Though, of course, why would we do that?_

_ Nothing but an innocent spar to see here, kids…_

We circled each other, taking calm, slow steps, a fireball here, a water whip there, testing reaction times, looking weak spots, trying to get a feel for what might work, what might now. All through this, I felt calm, cool, collected. The blood in my veins flowed hot and fast, pulsing in time with my heart. I no longer felt the cold, the chill, or even the wind on my face. All had faded away, leaving only me and the most beautiful woman in the world, both of us coming to the realization that we were an even match.

_Good…_

I felt the smile crease my face. I looked over to her, and saw a similar one forming on hers. Her eyes sparkled, and her skin practically _shimmered_ in the weak sunlight. She nodded at me. I nodded back.

_Time to stop playing around…_

_Time to have some fun…_

In retrospect, _that_ might have been the moment when it stopped being…well…_innocent…_

I saw the move before I saw the wave. Her arms swung in a wide arc, bringing a massive wave crashing onto the beach and arcing over my head. I ignored any inborn survival instincts, rolling towards the wave, coming out of my move and slicing the wave in two with a solid swath of fire. The part of the wave above me turned into a wall of steam, the other two halves crashing to either side of me. I used my momentum, hurling a series of fireballs at Katara, each one of which she expertly dissipated with well-placed balls of ice, fired right into the hearts of the fireballs.

At that point, the world turned into a rush of water and a hiss of fire in my ears. We moved fast, firing, deflecting, attacking, defending, almost perfectly in step with each other. We seemed to have an intuitive understanding of each other, moving in time, mirroring every move. I don't know how long it lasted, this eternal dance. I wasn't keeping track of the time, or even paying attention to anything but the beautiful woman around me.

Images swim up through the haze of fire and ice. I'm flying through the air, firing away, when my hands are encased in expertly fired balls of ice. I'm falling, hitting the ground, rolling, and when I rise, the ice is melted, gone, just in time for me to destroy the wall of water rushing for me. Without missing a beat, I stomp across the ground, one, two, three steps, sending out consecutive lines of fire. She dodges each one perfectly, and then we're moving in rhythm again.

Then there's the duel of whips, when we spend gods know how long duel-wielding whips of our element, re-igniting them as soon as they're extinguished, almost like a sword fight. I think of that then, there in the moment, _sword fighting_, and decide, then and there, that Katara would be an _amazing_ swordfighter, and that I should start teaching her post-haste.

Move, parry, attack, defend, repeat, over and over again, dancing around and up to and away and practically _through _each other, never tiring, just _living_. It's the most exciting, intoxicating, _brilliant_ spar that I've ever participated in. I stretch myself further than I've ever stretched myself before, I feel her do the same. We perform moves on each other that we would never _dream_ of using with anyone else. It's okay, though. We read each other's faces and look into each other's eyes and we know it in our hearts, the hearts that there, on that beach, _beat as one_.

We know…

_We can take it…_

I don't know how we got so close. I don't think either of us do. We talk about it later, try to piece it together, talk about it _long_ after, late at night, fingers entwined, running it over and over again in our minds. We can never quite figure it out. It's the first time it happens, this confusion, this haze we fall into.

_It won't be the last…_

_ I feel that even then…_

We're right up against each other. Our hearts are racing. I can feel her pulse flutter beneath her skin. Our elements fade away from us. I put out my fires, but feel no cooler. I'm looking into her eyes. She's looking into mine. Our chest heave up and down, up and down, almost in perfect time. I take a breath. She takes it with me.

_We don't ever seem to get around exhaling…_

We crash together, falling down to the surf. Our hands are all over each other's bodies, roaming and pulling and grabbing and tearing. She pulls me down on top of her, pressing up against me, body molding into mine. My head swims. My body hums. Our hands tangle in each other's hair, our arms wrap around each other's necks and backs, lips nibble and peck up and down each other's necks, each other's chest, _each other's…_

It's the slow clap that stops us. I won't pretend that either one of us have any doubts about where we were heading before that. The slow clap, like a beat, _clap-1-2-3-clap-1-2-3-clap-1-2-3-clap-1-2-3…_

We don't jump apart _quite_ like scalded kittens, but we are pretty close to doing so. We both spend a few moments running our hands through our hair, looking everywhere but at each other, right up until a voice joins the clapping.

"You, if you guys don't mind my saying so, but that was pretty _hot_!"

We recognize the voice instantly. I bury my face in my hands and hurl myself back into the sand, while Katara finds the time to glare while she tries to…umm…well…_put things back in place._ _Ahem…_

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Toph…_really?!_"

Toph breaks into hysterical laughter, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Well, what can I say? I felt the vibrations of someone doing some truly _epic_ sparring, and I just _had_ to come see!" She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. "And, I won't lie, I was _not_ disappointed."

Katara begins trying to brush the sand out of her hair, all while giving Toph a look that could kill, if such things were possible. "I'm not even going to _bother_ to ask how you could possibly come to that conclusion."

Toph pouts. "Aww…you're no fun!" She throws out a wink. "Though I'm sure Sparky here would disagree."

I groan at that, while Katara takes advantage of Toph's blindness to flip her a gesture that Hakoda would be _very_ shocked to see his daughter reproduce. Wait…_Hakoda…_

I pull myself into a sitting position. "Wait…you're the only person here, right?"

Toph giggles. "Well, I am _now_. A few others came with me to watch, but they all got bored and wandered off. I'm the only one who stuck it out." Her face twists into an evil grin. "I had a feeling that the best part would come at the end."

Katara reaches up, buries her hands in her hair, and groans. "Ugh…Toph…you know I love you, right?"

Toph shrugs, making a show of brushing some sand from her shoulder. "Everyone does, Sugar Queen."

Katara glares. "Good, because sometimes, I really fucking hate you."

Toph bursts into laughter at that. "Then my work here is done! I'll leave you two to it!" She turns on her heel and starts to walk away, all while Katara and I take a deep breath and give each other a look that says that neither of us has any intention of stopping now.

Or at least, we did, until Toph looks back over her shoulder to say, "Oh, yeah, and I almost forgot: Your Gran-Gran needs you to come home and help with dinner, before your dad gets it into his head to make his special sea prunes again. Later!"

The growl of frustration I unleashed in that moment was but a paltry thing next to the borderline _scream_ that Katara unleashed. Needless to say, we were both grumbling and mumbling and growling and cursing Toph in every possible way as we got dressed and headed back into the village.

"So," I said, reaching out and taking Katara's hand firmly in mine, "we're doing that again, right?"

She laughed and squeezed my hand. "Oh, fuck yeah."

See? All innocence. Nothing even happened!

_That time…_

* * *

So, is it just me, or were the first intimations of Zutara in the show the way they used to fight each other? I dunno, but there always seemed to be something…well…_more_ going on there.

Or it was just my wishful thinking. Whatever! Point is, there's something vaguely sexual about a sparring match, _especially_ between two people who want to interface with each other. So, there you go! And I even snuck in some plot development and some Zuko/Sokka Bro-Time! Woo!

Oh, if you're curious as to why they're doing all this work on the ship, we'll get to that later, potentially tomorrow. For tonight, cuddle time!

In the next chapter, I'm thinking we need to have some Uncle Iroh time. Either that, or more fluff. We'll see which chapter I feel like posting tomorrow. Stay tuned!


	30. Chapter 30

30. MY UNCLE IS BEAMING, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE IS. Why shouldn't he? He's pretty much gotten everything he ever wanted. He's gotten to spend real time trying out all the different varieties of tea to be found among the Southern Water Tribes. He's no longer wandering from place-to-place across a war-torn planet. The crew he put together and helped _keep together_ for nearly five years has finally found a place it can stop and put down roots. Hell, he's even managed to get what he wanted for his nephew, that being a growing gaggle of friends and a really nice young woman of whom he greatly approves and who's grandmother makes fantastic food.

Oh, and he's just beaten the shit out of me at Pai Sho. _Again._ So, yeah, of _course_ the crazy old fucker is beaming. And, being him, he's loving every minute of it.

"You know," he says, puffing contentedly on his pipe, "I really do hate to say this, but-"

I jab my cigarette out in an ashtray, swallowing an angry growl before it can escape my throat. "Yeah, yeah, _I know_, you won. _Again._"

He leans back, patting his belly. "You really shouldn't be upset, Zuko. Why, you actually had me worried for a bit there at the beginning."

I do my best to look nonchalant, as if it was no big deal. "Yeah, well, it's just a new strategy I'm trying out. Still has some kinks to work out, of course."

My uncle nods sagely, stroking his beard. "Well, that's interesting…I must be getting old, if I can't recognize a new strategy being formulated before me." He chuckles softly, a gleam in his eye. "I mean, to me, it looked like you were just moving pieces at random, probably out of exasperation."

I freeze up for a minute, doing my best not to start grinding my teeth, before resuming my task. "Yeah…well…that would be…um…_crazy_, you know?" I focus on the board, making sure each piece is in the exact position it needs to be. "I mean, who would actually be stupid enough to just…well…_move pieces around at random?_" I let out a strangled little attempt at a laugh.

My uncle smiles up at the ceiling, blatantly pleased with himself. "Well, like you said, your new strategy just has some kinks to work out. And like I said, it just _looked_ like pieces moving at random." He throws me a wink. "What would I know, being the crazy old man I am?"

_Way too fucking much_, I think, but don't bother to say. I've long since concluded that my uncle can read my mind, so why bother to vocalize such things? He's Iroh. He knows everything. _Everything._

It doesn't help that Toph tells him everything, either. I'm pretty sure that girl can read minds, too.

Just then, I have a rather disturbing thought. _What if everyone can read minds? Or what if…everyone can just read mine?_ I shake the idea away, rejecting it as far too distressing.

_Though it would explain a lot about Azula…_

"Zuko?"

I look up from the board, at which I had been staring, absorbed in my thoughts. My uncle's looking at me with concern, and not a small amount of amusement. "What?" I say.

He sighs. "Wander off into Zuko-Land again, nephew?"

I roll my eyes, reaching for a new cigarette. "I don't know what you're talking about." I point at the board. "So, shall we try again?"

He shakes his head, clucking his tongue. "You know, with that attitude, you're _never_ going to win."

I light my cigarette, taking a nice, long drag before reaching over for my tea. "Aren't you the one who keeps saying that Pai Sho isn't a game that you really _win?_"

My uncle laughs. "I am, but I'm also the one who made that up to make you feel better about the fact that your sister plays it better than you."

I sigh. "Uncle, I hate to break it to you, but I'm pretty sure that there are dead and cooked pig-chickens who play this game better than me."

My uncle frowns. "Now, Zuko, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

I shrug. "Yeah, well, it's true! Agni, I'm pretty sure even _Sokka_ could kick my ass at this game."

My uncle taps out a little beat on his pipe, mulling the idea over in his head. "You know…that would actually be an interesting game to see…indeed, I think it would do you some good."

I shake my head. "No, it wouldn't. He'd end up turning it into a drinking game and we'd never finish."

My uncle raises a finger. "Ah, but you might win."

"What, the drinking contest?"

"I believe you're undefeated in drinking contests against the young Sokka."

"That is true…so…what, challenge him to a Pai Sho game, get him drunk, then convince him that I won?"

He smiles. "It's a thought."

I laugh. "And you know what's sad? That I'm actually considering it." I rap my knuckles against the side of the board. "Come on, enough stalling, let's get this next round of humiliation on the road."

My uncle sighs. "Ah, the impatience of youth…"

With that, we start the game anew, while all around us, my officers settle in for the night. Our first month back from the Earth Kingdom was spent building three barracks-like buildings on land the tribe gave to us. Myself, my uncle, Captain Fujita, and the officers share one, while the rest of the crew is split between the other two. We put a lot of work into these buildings; they're quite cozy and well-built. In the officers' barracks, each man even gets his own room, which is a huge improvement on the cramped quarters we had on the ship. Naturally, my uncle and I are in his room; I don't care to experience humiliation in my own personal space, not after I haven't _had _personal space in almost five years.

_Though, come to think of it, I didn't really have personal space at the palace, either…_

Speaking of humiliation, I can see it coming not five moves into our new game. I attempt a more refined method of my previous strategy (that being, _moving shit around randomly_, only, this time, _more refined_), and through this method, I find just as much success as I did the last time. I resign myself to another depressing defeat, and focus on the actual purpose of these games: _Conversation._

"So," my uncle begins, puffing away on his pipe with an indulgent smile on his face, as if he doesn't have a care in the world, "what is the Lady Bei Fong up to tonight?"

I shrug, pondering my next move. "I dunno. Probably hanging out with some of her new friends. She's become quite popular here."

My uncle laughs. "I can imagine. She grows on one rather quickly. How is her Suomi coming along?"

"Pretty well, actually. Which is surprising, but not really. It figures that she'd be a natural at it."

"Well, Zuko, when you think about it, it makes sense. Remove the visual senses, and one is forced to put a lot of concentration into one's auditory senses. With the resulting highly developed sense of heading-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it. I had the same thought. But yeah, she gets along just fine without me these days. I'm pretty sure she's even picked up a bit of a girlfriend."

My uncle chuckles. "Well, good. I'm glad. That girl needs something to distract her from constantly embarrassing you and the Lady Katara."

I roll my eyes. "What, afraid that she'll steal your job?"

"Of course not! She may be a natural, but me? I'm a professional at embarrassing you. I expect to be the primary holder of that position for quite some time."

"Goody for me."

"Tsk tsk…you really do need to relax, nephew. A sense of humor would do you good."

"I thought I was relaxing!"

"If you were relaxed, you could easily win this game."

"But half the reason I'm having trouble relaxing is _because_ of this game."

"And that's why you'll never win."

"I…what…_what does that even…_oh, fu-nevermind. Your move, by the way."

"Yes, I believe it is! Now, where was I?"

"Being all crazy and Zen?"

"If that's what you like to call it. I prefer the term _balanced_."

"Yeah, whatever. Your move again."

"So it is! But, to be honest, I'm more curious about your move."

"What move? I don't even know what my next move is."

"I'm not talking about Pai Sho, Zuko."

"Ugh…of course you're not. So, what _are_ you getting at?"

"Well, for example, what's your next move with the crew?"

"Haven't we talked about this?"

"Refresh my memory. You know how easily I forget things."

"Uh huh. Well, basically, we're converting the ship back into the merchant ship we found it as, so that, after the winter storms pass, it can resume doing its trading thing, which shouldn't be hard, we already have all the contacts. If the crew wants to return home, they can, or if they want to stay based out of here, they can do that, too."

"Which means a trip back home to collect any family members the crew may wish to be with."

"Naturally."

"I see. An excellent plan."

"You should think so, since you helped me put it all together."

"I did, didn't I? Imagine that!"

"Yeah, imagine that. Also, you still haven't moved."

"In time, nephew, in time. So, speaking of moves…"

"Oh, gods…"

"Now, Zuko, there's no reason to be like that. You don't have any idea what I might be about to ask!"

"I think I do."

"Oh really? And what makes you so certain of your sudden precognitive abilities?"

"Precognitive _what?_ You know what, never mind. Point is, Toph's been running her mouth, hasn't she."

His eyebrow pops. "Oh? I wasn't aware of that." A faint, subtle smile creases his lips. "What on earth could she possibly be running her mouth about?"

I slap a palm to my forehead, slowly running it down across my face and off the tip of my chin. _Fuck, totally walked into that one._ To be honest, in the time since Toph caught the end of my and Katara's first…umm…_sparring match_, I've been living in a constant state of dread. Toph actually lives at Katara's, in the family's spare room, and while I don't believe that she would actually outright _spill the beans_, so to speak, I have no difficulty believing that she's spent the past three weeks since then making veiled, snarky remarks about the situation.

_Which hasn't stopped Katara and I from working in regular…umm…sparring matches since then. Funny, how we never seem to finish…_

_ But anyways…_

"Zuko?"

"Hmm…?"

"I'm waiting…"

"Look, it's nothing, honest to Agni. You know what? I'll go ahead and make your move for you, that way, I might have a fighting chance. See? There. Was that so hard? So, what were we talking about? The crew, I believe…"

My uncle laughs, like, real, hysterical laughter, a great big, belly-shaking laugh. It actually takes him a couple of minutes to calm down, at the end of which he's wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Oh, Zuko, you have no idea how long I've waited for a situation such as this."

"A situation such as what? I don't follow…"

_Which is a lie, but whatever, so sue me…_

"Oh, just you, being all in love with a pretty girl, and me getting to be the doddering old fool making you blush about it."

_"I'm not blushing!"_

"You keep thinking that, Zuko. But, that does bring me to what I _was_, in fact, talking about…"

_"Oh, gods…"_

"What, exactly, _are_ your ultimate intentions towards the Lady Katara? What _is_ your next move in that department?"

I blink, once, twice, three times…then a few more times, too. I school my face into blankness. I let no emotion slip. Nothing. I swear. _Nothing._

Because the thought that slips into my mind is definitely _not_ something I intend to share with my uncle.

Just…_no…_

"Well…umm…continue to court her, of course. Why do you ask?"

He leans back in his chair, that silly, contented little grin still firmly plastered on his face. "Oh, no reason. It's just, it's hard to miss the looks passing between you, and, well, it does cause one to _wonder…_"

I sigh, reaching over to begin spinning the ashtray around on the table. "Look, uncle, we're not having sex, okay?" _At least, not yet._ "So, go ahead and banish that little lecture from your mind."

He puts on an expression of exaggerated offense. "Who, me, lecture _you?_ Perish the thought. Though, like I said, this development does call into question your ultimate intentions…"

I shoot him a glare. "I would think, uncle, that you, of all people, would know me better than that."

He chuckles. "I do, nephew, I do, and you know that. Still, the question has been asked…"

My eyes go wide. "By who, her father?" The thought chills me to my bones. I like Hakoda, I do, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I don't fancy the idea of him kicking down the door of the barracks and coming for my blood.

Fortunately for my peace of mind, my uncle shakes his head. "Oh, no, not Chief Hakoda." I start to let out a sigh of relief, which he interrupts by casually saying, "However, the lovely Lady Kanna and I have had some more enlightening conversations…"

My heart sinks. "Oh, gods, please tell me you're joking…"

He picks up a tile and finally makes a move, still smiling to himself. "Did you know, she really does make just a _lovely_ cup of tea…"

I slump back in my chair. "Oh, for the love of…you're insane, you know that?"

He laughs. "So you keep telling me."

"I doubt I'm the only one."

"I would have to agree with you. However, we're still dancing around my question…"

I let out a big, heavy sigh. "Well, I figure Katara will let me know when the time for that has come."

He shakes his head, clucking his tongue. "You know, Zuko, there are certain things that are the young man's responsibility."

I look up at the ceiling, pleading silently for it to crash down upon me and end this conversation. "Look, I know that, but…" I struggle for words. This is something I've talked about with Katara, of course, but…_this isn't like that._ It's…_harder_. More…_more difficult_. So finally, at a loss, I just start talking.

"Do you remember Mai?"

My uncle nods. "After our little encounter outside of Omashu, how could I forget?"

"Heh…yeah…point is…well…when I was betrothed to her, I'd never actually _met_ her. All of the negotiations were handled entirely between my father and hers. The contract was signed and agreed to after I had met her once, for dinner, during which we didn't speak a meaningful word to each other. Do you remember how old I was?"

He nods. "Thirteen."

"Pretty much. For the next five years, we never, _not once_, spent a single moment alone together."

"As is custom for such things back home."

"Exactly. So, by the time I turned eighteen, and was looking my official betrothal ceremony in the face, I honestly couldn't tell you ten real things about her, and I doubt she could, either. _And I was about to spend the rest of my life with this woman._ You remember how frightening that is?"

He sighs. "I do. I was terrified the night before I was to marry your aunt."

"Right. Well…I'd rather not do that again. _Or anything like that._ So, we're going to take our time, truly get to know each other, and in a year, we'll address this…_next move_ you keep alluding to without actually alluding to it."

He smiles, reaches up, taps his nose. "I think, Zuko, that we've officially spent too much time together. You're getting wise to all my tricks!"

I roll my eyes. "Please, uncle, I'm pretty sure I could know you for a _century_ and never learn so much as a _tenth_ of your tricks."

He chuckles. "Which just goes to show you how much you've learned. Also, I believe it's my move."

"_About fucking time…"_

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" I smile. "So, your move, right?"

"Well, it was, now it's…your move. Which brings me to my final topic."

"Ugh, _uncle…_"

"Now, now, Zuko, it's not bad or embarrassing or anything. I'm just curious…what, exactly, are you preparing for?"

I arch an eyebrow. _Well, this is interesting…_

"What do you mean?"

He gives me a knowing smile, before taking a few moments to concentrate on carefully clearing his pipe and re-packing it. He gives it a light, takes a few soft, contemplative puffs, before finally saying, "It's just some things I've noticed."

I nod slowly, carefully, keeping my cards close to the chest. I pull out a fresh cigarette, light it, take a few soft, contemplative puffs of my own. "Go on…"

He chuckles. "Well…for example, recently you have begun giving your young friend Sokka advanced weapons training."

I nod. "Well, he asked for it, plus, he's teaching me as much as I'm teaching him. There's a lot the Water Tribes can teach us about fighting with a spear."

His smile grows bolder. "Indeed. Still…there's the weapons training with Sokka, and then your language lessons with young Toph-"

"Another thing she asked for, and might I say, _lessons_ isn't quite the word. It's more _practice_. She's picked up an astonishing amount just through her ears over the years."

"Hmm…indeed. And last, but not least, there's the Lady Katara."

I arch an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Indeed. Just the other day, I found myself looking over the reading materials you've gathered for her. Just how many languages are you planning to teach her?"

"As many languages as she cares to learn, which, knowing her, will be all of the ones I know, and given what I've seen, she'll probably be getting very good, very quickly. Indeed, I think she'll be able to start Nihongo after the New Year."

He laughs. "Of that, I have no doubt. Still…is there any reason why you found so many books and scrolls dealing with…well…_Avatars?_"

I shrug. "Well, that was mostly what we had on board when we left home. After all, that _was_ our original mission."

He leans forward, elbows resting on the table. "So, you're telling me that you just picked these materials because they were what was at hand?"

I give him a long, steady look. "I believe that's what _you_ just said."

He looks at me long and hard, before giving a soft, subtle nod and leaning back in his chair. "You know, Zuko, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were training assistants for some kind of quest."

At that, I have to laugh, I really do. _Assistants? Sokka, Toph, __**Katara**__, be nothing more than mere __**assistants?! **__Please._

My uncle smiles. "I say something funny?"

I shrug. "A bit. Look, I'm not saying that you're wrong, just that you picked the wrong word. You see, if I was training my friends to take part in something – _and I'm not saying that I am _– but if I _was_, _**hypothetically**_, I can assure you, I would _not_ be training _assistants._"

His smile grows wider. "And what would you be training?"

I return the smile full force.

"_Partners_, of course."

My uncle chuckles, deep in his throat.

"I can't wait to find out what you're preparing for."

I laugh.

"That makes two of us."

* * *

So, two things. One, I promise, I'm working on the typos, guys. _Just cut me some slack. __**Please?! **_*makes a really cute face*

Two, someone pointed out that I used _wansui_ incorrectly in the Toph/Zuko chapter. This person is absolutely correct, which is why I'm making an apology, and pleading, not ignorance (because I did the research, and totally knew better), but, rather, _artistic license_. Which is a bullshit excuse. It just…it just made the bit there at the end flow better…

Why am I talking about this? Because I feel bad about it, and that review reminded me of my guilt…

*kicks rock*

At least I know enough to know when I'm wrong, right? That counts for something….

Where was I? Right!

By the way, points to whoever can figure out what Zuko's starting to get ready for! And isn't it fun, watching Iroh fluster Zuko? I never get tired of that. Also, I really like the image of Iroh and Kanna sitting outside on a quiet afternoon, sipping tea and plotting. Don't you?

In the next chapter, Zuko and Katara end up misbehaving, but, really, they didn't mean to. It's not like they _planned_ it or anything. And it definitely wasn't Zuko's idea. _Honest._ Stay tuned!


	31. Chapter 31

31. THERE'S A BRIEF MOMENT, BARELY A FEW SECONDS IN DURATION, BEFORE THE DOOR TO MY BEDROOM CLOSES AND BEFORE KATARA AND I FUMBLE WITH THE LOCK, THAT I CAN BACK OUT. In that brief moment, a fraction of a blink in the life of the world, I can still plead innocence. I can still say that I didn't know where this was going, that I had no dishonorably intentions. Katara and I can both make our escapes, our chastity intact, and continue to mentally add the words _not yet_ to the end of every snide remark that Toph makes out of the corner of her mouth. Those few seconds before the door clicks shut are the last few seconds either one of us will have to reconsider our decision. Those final few seconds are our last chance to really stop, think, well and truly _contemplate_ where this is all headed.

Naturally, we blow right past that last moment there without a single second's hesitation. The only pause is when we both reach for the lock at the same time, resulting in an outburst of muffled giggles before she throws up her hands and lets me slide the lock into place. After that, it's all over.

_Personally, I blame the winter solstice._

If there's one thing I've learned during my exile, it's that, by and large, every nation and culture celebrates their big national holidays the same way. Whether it's the summer solstice in the Fire Nation or the winter solstice among the Northern Water Tribes, it's all about parades, special religious ceremonies, plays, dancing, music, displays of advanced bending, just good, decent, relatively calm, _civilized_ occasions.

That's not how it works in the South. When the Southern Water Tribes mark the winter solstice, they toss all of that civilized bullshit out the winter and just hold a big gods-damn party.

It's all remarkably straightforward, too. There are two little religious ceremonies, led by the tribe's chief, supported by the elders, one to kick off the celebration, and one to close it out, this last one typically being very short and very simple, seeing as every last member of the tribe is typically ridiculously hungover. Between those two points in time, there is nothing but a non-stop cacophony of music, dancing, and drinking. Did I mention the drinking? _Oh gods the drinking._ And, apparently, no two parties are quite the same, even from year-to-year amongst the same tribe. For example, that winter, the Yuupik tribe decides to take advantage of all the firebenders in their midst by building a massive tower of wood and making the firebender who's courting the chief's daughter light the fucking thing. This, naturally, the individual in question does, to the delight of children and the rapturous approval of the crowd.

Did I show off a little when I did that? Well…okay..._I might have._ I'm sure a simple moderately-sized fireball would've been sufficient to get the job done, but, well, I was feeling happy and confidant, and I didn't see any reason not to have a little fun. That, in fact, was when I got my first inkling of where this night was headed. When I finished my move, and the bonfire was lit from base to tip, I threw my hands in the air and the crowd went wild and right there and then the dancing and the singing started and the bottles were passed around and you could hear Toph laughing and clapping above all of the din and I turned around and saw Katara and…well…um…

See, she had this…um…_look_ in her eyes, this…uh…_sheen_, if one will, and, well…I felt this little…um…_tremor_…race up and down my spine, and it was like electricity was crackling along my skin, and…well…it would've been fine, except…uh…

_She looked like she was feeling the same way…_

If I was an honorable, level-headed young man, I would've bailed right then and there. But, alas, not only am I _not that_, but Katara is totally not a _chaste and demure young maiden_. So, yeah, pretty much no turning back.

The rest of the night doesn't help. My world turns into a swirling riot of dancing and singing and drinking and then more dancing and singing and drinking. The music blares and the beat pumps through my blood and my skin flushes bright red in the dark of the night. The moon hangs big and low in the pale night sky, and the world is soft and cold and covered in a blanket of snow, but I don't notice any of that at all. I notice my friends, and I notice the tribe, and I notice how much fun I'm having, and, most of all, I notice the beautiful woman who dances with me all through the night.

And I _definitely_ notice her now, with the lock in place on the door and both of us kicking off our shoes as we tumble into bed. At first, there's really not much finesse to what's going on. Our boots strike the wall with heavy _thuds_, and our parkas are shrugged off and tossed aside all in the same swift, jagged motions. Then we're tugging at each other's shirts, which is not as easy as it sounds, and though we express frustration with the process, we really shouldn't complain, since the whole issue is being caused by the fact that neither of us are willing to unlock our lips for the necessary split second. Finally, we do this, and our hands and our mouths start wandering all over the place. My heart is racing and I can feel her blood pounding through her veins, feel the heat pulsing as I press my lips to her neck and her collarbones and her chest and her…well…um…

_Other places…_

I really hope I don't have to draw a diagram.

Then I'm fumbling at her chest wrappings and she's making this strange, almost _purring_ sound, deep in the back of her throat, and I can feel the vibration of it, because my lips are pressed to said throat, when, suddenly, her body stiffens and her eyes go wide and she reaches down and grabs my hands.

I blink a few times, deeply confused, not least because she looks just as confused as I do. I take a few deep breaths, trying to get my breathing under control, before finally giving up and croaking out, "Um…is everything okay?"

She nods a few times, her hair (which at some point was released from whatever implements were holding it in place and is now cascading freely all over the both of us in a way that is just _outrageously_ sexy) flying up and down with each movement of her head. When she speaks, she sounds like she's just run a hundred miles, her voice rushed and breathless.

"Yeah…um…_yeah_, trust me, this is…um…_really just great_…um…but…" She bites her lip, and a faint glimmer of worry creeps into her eyes.

My heart sinks a little, and I move my hands from her back and wrap them around her face. "Hey…you sure? We can stop…"

Her eyes fly wide. "Um…_no_. It's just…um…" She nibbles her lip a little more, before finally whispering, "I've…like…_never done this before…_"

I stare at her for a bit, before allowing a smile to burst out on my face. "Hey, it's okay, I've only done this once, a good six years ago."

She brightens a bit, even as she arches an eyebrow. "Wait…you were telling the truth about that?"

I frown. "What, you thought I was lying?"

She shrugs. "I dunno…_not really_, I just…_wasn't sure if I should believe it…_but…well…" She concentrates her lip nibbling to one side, while the other side pops up in a smile. "So, what you're saying is…neither of us really knows what we're doing?"

I laugh. "Pretty much, yeah."

She giggles. "Well, that's a change." She leans down over me (because she's on top me, because…um…_she is?_), covering my face with hot, wet kisses. "So, where were we…"

Where we were was removing her chest wrappings, a task which was completed in very short order. The second those coverings were gone…well…let's just say that the best word for what my head did at that moment was _swoon._ In fact, my head swooned just enough to get itself somewhat clear, allowing me to reconsider how I was going about this.

Not reconsider _what_ I was doing, just _how I was going to do it._

Her hands were trailing down my chest, and her lips were trailing across my collarbones. I reached for those hands stopped them, causing her to look up at me, a look of worry on her face.

"Is everything alright, Zuko?"

I sigh, shake my head. "Yeah…it is, but…look…" I scoot back a little bit, just enough so that certain _things_ are not poking certain _places_, and take a deep breath. "There's…there's something I have to tell you…"

Her face falls, and turns about three different shades of white. "Wait…you actually _did_ get married, didn't you?"

I blink, completely lost. "What? No! Just…_what?!_ Gods no…no, we never even had the official betrothal ceremony."

She heaves a great big sigh of relief. "Oh, thank the gods, because then I would've ended up feeling, like, _really bad_ in the morning."

I pop an eyebrow. "Wait…you would've kept going?"

She shrugs. "Well, a bit late to stop now, isn't it?"

I mull this over before nodding. "Well…yeah, I guess so…but…_no_, that's…_no_." I take a moment to literally shudder at the thought of actually having ended up _married _to Mai (not that she's a bad person, because she's _not_, just…_man, I would've been miserable_, but that's neither here nor there), before re-focusing my attention on the present. "It's just…that…"

She giggles softly, wrapping her hands around my face and kissing me gently on the forehead. "Zuko, I know."

I frown. "Know what?"

She shakes her head, clucking her tongue, before planting two more kisses, one on each brow. "You're the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation."

"Well," I say, "actually, it would be better to say that I _was_ the Crown Prince, and…wait…_how the fuck do you know this?_"

She rolls her eyes. "Well, it's not like you were keeping it a _secret_ or anything. It's just…you didn't want to talk about it." She kisses my right cheek, my _good_ cheek. "I mean, if you _did_ want to keep it secret, you should probably tell your crew to stop referring to you as _the prince_ when you're not around."

I nod. "_Ah_. That…yeah, I can see how that'd be pretty easy to figure out…"

She laughs. "Yeah…Toph and I sat down and put two and two together a few months ago, and that was that." She leans forward, presses her lips against my scar.

I sigh at the touch, the feel. The nerves are dead there, in that space, but somehow…_I can always feel it when she kisses me there._ And I can never quite get enough of it, either. I press back against her, my hands wandering, my mind drifting away.

"So," I say, face buried in her neck, hands pulling up her skirt, "can I tell you something else?"

She giggles into the top of my head, her hands tugging at my pants. "I love you, too, Zuko."

I freeze up for a moment, before relaxing. "Was that really necessary?"

"Of course," she says, in a matter-of-fact tone, before moving her mouth down to my good ear and whispering, "_I always come first._"

I chuckle. "Is that an order?"

She nips at my ear. _"You tell me."_

I like to think I did.

Afterwards, we lie in the bed, shrouded in darkness. Outside, the party roars on, but inside my room, there's silence, silence and contentment. We're wrapped around each other, wrapped around and tied up and entwined. We practically melt into each other, there in the darkness, covered only by a thick blanket wrapped tightly around us. Katara nuzzles into my chest, her fingers tracing lazy, random patterns up and down my torso, while I play with her hair, calmly running my fingers through the strands that have _somehow_ gotten themselves all kinds of tangled and strung together.

I'm not thinking of anything, right up until the moment I decide to speak. I'm really not, and, indeed, I don't think I would've been _capable_ of really thinking about anything that moment. I'm just…_existing_, floating along on a cushion of warmth and happiness. Outside, the world is pumping and full of life, a speck of light in the gathering darkness all around us. All across the South, the fires are burning, desperately holding back the night, beacons of hope in against a dark and unknowable future. Somewhere, my father plots and schemes, his armies carrying his flag and his tyranny everywhere two boots can be placed side-by-side. That's why I have to do it, what I'm getting ready to do.

_That's why I have go back out there._

_Only this time, I'll be damned if I try to go alone._

"Katara?"

She opens her eyes, a lazy, dreamlike haze clouding their depths. "Hmm?"

I lean down, kiss her forehead. "I love you."

She smiles. "I love you, too. Are you alright?"

"Actually," I say, my chest hot and tight, "I don't think I've ever felt this good in my entire life. Which is weird, considering what I'm about to tell you."

She nods slowly, her hair tickling my skin. She stops tracing her patterns, reaches up, runs her fingertips lightly across my scar, sending a shudder through my body.

"You're going to tell me about your scar, aren't you?"

I sigh. "Yes, I am."

She drops her hand, wraps her arms around my body, presses herself into me, holds me tight. "I'm ready when you are."

I take a deep breath, inhale, exhale, and then I tell her.

I tell her everything, holding nothing back. I tell her about my coming-of-age ceremony, of the day when I was finally allowed to wear the Crown Prince's crown. I talk about the meetings I was finally allowed to attend, where I was instructed, under threat of my father's wrath, never to speak a word unless directly asked. I throw in every detail about those days, about strange it felt, the deepness of the bows I now received from the nobles and the servants, about being allowed to sit at my father's right, about the evil glares my sister shot my way every chance she got, about the thousand little torments she put me through, about how I was just then beginning to truly suspect that something was wrong with her.

I hold it together until I get to that final meeting. My voice catches, and tears burn in my one working eye, but Katara is there, in the darkness, somehow she knows, she reaches up and brushes the tears away and holds me even tighter than before. She doesn't say anything. _She just lets me speak._

I try to describe the fury, the anger, the sense of betrayal I felt, there in my first war meeting, when the generals casually discussed throwing away an entire division of raw recruits, just because it would make a good distraction. My words fail me, but I seem to get the point across. For a second, a brief flicker in time, I'm there, in that room, standing above the general who outlined the plan, fury pulsing through my body, sparks shooting out of my mouth and my ears and my nose. The general quakes in fear, but does not back down. He says that he stands by his plan, that he's used it before, to great success, and that he'll use it again. I make clear that I will not, _under any circumstances_, allow this to happen.

My temper gets the best of me.

_I challenge him to an Agni Kai._

He accepts, then and there. I should've known what was going to happen. His face curls into a sneer, and he's almost _laughing_ when he accepts. I don't understand it, I really don't, not until the moment I step onto the fighting field and discover my father, standing before me in all his glory.

I don't explain why my father did what he did, and I don't try to, because I can't. I have never understood what happened, and I never will. All that matters, in the end, is that, when he grew tired of my refusal to fight him, he called me _worthless_, disowned me, and then the world turned the color of fire and pain and I fell into blackness.

Katara's crying at that point, sobbing. She keeps shaking her head back and forth, refusing to accept that anyone could do that to their own child. She calls down curses on my father's head, and I let her, because I'm crying, too, crying for the first time in _years_, and somehow, she's not holding me, and I'm not holding her, we're holding each other, one light in the darkness.

It takes a while for her to stop crying. I won't say she calmed down, because she didn't. Neither of us did, really. Finally, she wipes her tears from her eyes, smiles thinly, and says, "And I thought I had it bad, growing up."

I shake my head, kiss her forehead. "Hey, no, I'd say we came out about even."

She scoffs at that. _"Bull-fucking-__**shit,**_ but I'll let it slide for now." She giggles. "It's not really much of a fight to have."

I shake my head, smiling. "No, it's not."

She tilts her head, kisses me. "So, you were exiled?"

I nod. "Pretty much. I was stripped of my rank and title, and given just enough money to make sure I actually went out on the mission I'd been tasked with."

"And…what was that mission?"

"Heh…the find the Avatar, and bring him back to my father."

Her eyes go wide. "But…the Avatar's dead, everyone knows that. The cycle is broken."

I nod. "_Exactly_."

She shakes her head. "So…in other words…you father banished you for life?"

I smile. "That's what he thinks."

Up goes an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

I wrap my arms around her, pull her close, rest my forehead against hers.

"You see, I've decided that I'm going to fulfill my mission. I'm going to find the Avatar, wherever he or she is, and I'm going to bring them to my father, and fulfill my destiny."

A thin, hungry smile creases her face. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I can't help but get this feeling that your father's not going to like the manner in which you go about doing that."

I chuckle, deep in my throat. "He might not, but I'm pretty sure the rest of the world will be pretty down with it."

"Heh…I think I'd like to see that. So…when do we start?"

And in that moment, I fell in love with her all over again.

* * *

So, if you guessed that Zuko has decided to go after the Avatar, guess what? You win! I'm not sure _what_ exactly, you win, but…well…_you win at life! _Sound good? _Sweet._

Not too much to say about this chapter; it pretty much speaks for itself, so we'll move right along.

In the next chapter, Zuko gets the band together and tells them what's about to go down. He offers them a choice, and isn't in the least bit surprised at their response. Sokka while be hungry, Toph will be snarky, and Katara and Zuko will probably be a bit gross. Stay tuned!


	32. Chapter 32

32. TOPH'S THE LAST TO ARRIVE, AND, BEING HER, SHE ENTERS IN STYLE. She bursts in through the door, stomping right in the center of my room, plopping herself down at what passes for a table, props her gods-awfully dirty feet atop said table, tilts back in the chair in a way that should be impossible in the physical realm that we inhabit, links her fingers behind her head, and says, in a calm, serious voice, "So, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today…"

There are only the four of us now, Sokka, Katara, myself, and Toph, clustered now around a very small table in rather basic chairs in my very small room. The air is already thick with smoke despite the open window, and the three of us who arrived _on time_ are sipping tea that my uncle kindly made for us. Katara, of course, is right next to me, our chairs pressed together, her hand resting lightly on my inner thigh and her head laid on my shoulder, while my right arm is draped casually over the back of her chair. Together we sit, and together we both laugh at Toph's little entrance.

Sokka, though, seems a bit lost. He furrows his brow and taps his chin a few times, before saying, "But…wait…I thought Zuko was the one who gathered us…"

Toph rolls her eyes. "The efficiency with which you can kill punch-lines is supernatural, you know that?"

Katara laughs. "I know, right? He's lucky he's cute."

Toph scoffs. "What, with that hair? _Please._"

Sokka's face falls, as he reaches up and pats his ponytail. "Hey, my hair's _fine_. And besides, you're one to…" There's a beat, then another, then a third. I count them out in my head; my timing's gotten near perfect with these things. "Oh, for fuck's sake…"

Toph howls with glee. "Oh, you are just _too_ easy." She allows herself a feel more moments of mirth, before turning to me and saying, "So, Sparky, why _are_ we here?" Slowly, she turns her _gaze_ (so to speak) to Katara, to whom she says, "And why do I get the feeling that Sugar Queen already knows everything?"

Katara merely adopts a serious expression and says, without a hint of irony, "Because I'm a god in human form, Toph, so, naturally, I know everything."

Sokka nods to himself. "That…would explain a lot…"

"That's what I keep trying to tell you," Katara says, "but do you listen? _No_. But," she continues, turning her attention back to Toph, "might I take a moment to say that your Suomi is getting quite good."

Toph gives a nonchalant shrug. "Well, yeah, I've been stuck here for…what…six months now? Seven? It wouldn't do much for my reputation of unequaled awesomeness if I couldn't figure out how to communicate in that time."

"Immersion," I observe, "is the best method for learning a new language."

"That," Katara says in her still rudimentary Nihongo, "or having your boyfriend teach it to you while naked."

"True," I reply in the same language, "but I don't think that's a widely applicable education method."

She giggles. "It better not be."

Meanwhile, Sokka rolls his eyes, while Toph turns to him and says, "So, I take it that this is a new thing of theirs?"

Sokka nods, slumping in his chair. "Yeah, ever since the New Year, he's been teaching her some new language, and now they have little asides to each other."

Toph laughs. "That's actually kind of adorable, in a slightly infuriating way."

Sokka scoffs. "_Slightly?_"

Toph giggles. "Well, maybe for me, because I actually understood what they're saying."

Sokka brightens at that. "Really?"

"I'm not the only one Zuko gives language lessons to," Katara points out.

Sokka nods. "True, true…so…Toph? You could, like, translate what they just said for me?"

Toph scoffs. "Fuck no! It'd only give you nightmares."

Sokka sighs. "Yeah, because just _telling _me that totally helps me avoid those…"

Katara rolls her eyes. "Oh, pipe down, village playboy." She waves a hand at Toph. "I believe, after all, that Toph here had a question, and a question that needs answering."

Sokka leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Well, then, by all means, carry on."

Katara gives my thigh a squeeze. "It's your show, babe."

I clear my throat. "Indeed." I go through a couple of motions before I begin my pitch. I sip my tea, stub out my current cigarette, clear my throat again. To be honest, I'm a little nervous. I've never actually…well…personally _asked_ someone to follow me into something before. When it came time to put together my crew, my uncle did all the legwork, which was understandable, sure, since I was, at the time, still in and out of the hospital, but it still left a bit of a gap in my education, and when it comes to Katara…well…let's just say that half the time, I'm pretty sure it's me who's following _her._ I never had to ask her to come on this journey, which, I guess, is what love is: The simple fact that there's someone in your life that you don't have to _ask_ to come with you, they just _do_.

But here…now…I have to ask two people, one of whom is a freshly minted seventeen-year-old girl who I didn't even know _existed_ this time last year, to embark upon a quest that I haven't the faintest clue as to where it will lead. Hell, I don't even know if there's so much as a _remote_ chance for success.

And I'll have to tell them that. _All of it_. And hope, at the end of my speech, that they'll still want to come with me. _That they'll adopt my destiny as theirs._

Katara senses my trepidation, because of _course_ she does. The hand on my thigh travels up to my knee, and she gives another squeeze. I look down to the hand, look to her. She smiles at me, throws me a wink. A warmth fills me, from my toes to my brow, exploding deep in my chest, and I can't help myself, I give her a quick peck on the forehead and turn to the others feeling a little bit better.

"So," I begin, doing my best to keep my voice steady and even and free of hesitation or self-doubt, "what do you two know about me? About who I really am."

Sokka shrugs. "You're Zuko, man. You're pretty much my best friend, and you're cool, and you know all kinds of cool things, especially with weapons, and you treat my sister right, and even my dad likes you." He smiles, that weird, lop-sided grin that only he seems capable of producing. "What else do I need to know?"

"I think," Toph points out, "what he's trying to ask is if we know he's the Crown Fucking Prince of the Fire Fucking Nation."

I laugh. "If you want to put it that way, yes, that's what I'm asking."

Sokka absent-mindedly scratches his cheek. "Was that supposed to be a secret or something?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Wait…even you knew?"

Again, he shrugs, as to reiterate that he really couldn't care less. "I always figured it was something like that. I mean, I didn't _know_, per se, but it's not exactly a _surprise._ After all, there has to be _some_ reason why the captain of your ship seems to treat you as the boss."

All I can do is run a hand through my hair and give Katara a smile. "So, that's two things I fail at: Being a villain, and being mysterious."

Katara shakes her head and pecks me on the cheek. "But you're still cute."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "Ugh, gag me with a spoon. Can we move on, please?"

"Yeah," Toph throws in, "before my teeth start rotting."

I throw up a hand in surrender. "Alright, alright. So, the secret's out. Once upon a time, I was the heir to the throne of the Fire Nation, the only legitimate son of Fire Lord Ozai, the man currently on his way to ruling the world with an iron fist. Everyone got that?"

"Well," Sokka says, "it wasn't exactly a _secret_, since we're getting all _technical_ and shit here…"

Toph sighs. "Do you want to argue word choice, or do you want to let him finish his fucking story, Mr. _Can We Move On Please?_"

Sokka spreads his hands. "Alright, fine, _my bad_." He waves me to continue. "Please, don't stop on my account."

I chuckle. "Well, since I have your approval…" I take another deep, calming breath, before pressing on. "You see…when I was banished, my father gave me one command: _Find the Avatar and bring him to the Fire Nation, or die trying_. I was not to return until I had accomplished one or the other of those tasks."

"In other words," Katara clarifies, "he was banished for life." Her eyes sparkle with a predatory gleam. "Or, at least, that's what Ozai was thinking."

"And still thinks, I hope. You see," I continue, finally beginning to warm to my theme, "if this world has one problem, is that there's no hope for the future, no…_big thing_, to unite everybody. Thus, my ancestors have been able to spend the past hundred years picking their enemies off one-by-one."

"But," Katara says, "if the Avatar were to return-"

"Yeah, yeah, it would reawaken hope in the world and _blah blah fucking __**blah**_." Toph sighs, turns to me. "Didn't we already have this conversation with your uncle?"

"I didn't get to have this conversation," Sokka points out.

Toph rolls her eyes. "So, what I had to get up early this morning just to hear it all over again? Couldn't you do this before I got here?"

Katara shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "We've really got to work on your patience, dear."

Toph scoffs. "Fuck patience. In fact…I'm pretty sure I did fuck a girl whose name basically meant _patience_ once…"

Sokka perks up at that. "No shit? What was she like?"

Toph smiles to herself. "Very impatient, oddly enough…"

I cough into my hand. _"Anyways…_look, what I'm getting at is, the world needs the Avatar, and it appears that, somehow, someway, the spirits have decided that it's my destiny to find them."

"Did you ever find them?" Sokka asks, genuinely interested.

I shake my head. "No. Let's just say that…to be honest…I never actually looked that hard. I spent a year poking around the air temples, looking all angry and serious, before I allowed myself to get distracted by other things."

"Like hunting pirates," Toph says.

"Or ignoring truly legendary amounts of tail," Sokka offers.

"Or giving late night language lessons," Katara whispers, purring into my ear.

Sokka replies to this by making a gagging nose, while Toph laughs and I try not to blush and Katara allows herself to look triumphant. Sokka does his best to ignore all of this, focusing his attention on me and saying, "So, I get it, you want to find the Avatar. What's that got to do with us?"

Toph clucks her tongue. "You really are slow sometimes."

Sokka's expression turns rather offended. "Hey! I'm not slow! I mean, look at all the work I did on the ship, and let's not forget that _I'm_ the one who designed this very barracks, and-"

Katara rolls her eyes. "She said _sometimes_, Sokka, which is a charge you really can't refute."

He raises a finger, letting his mouth open and close a few times, before slumping back into his chair and muttering, "_Alright, fine, you got me there_." He sighs, then says, "So, Toph, if you're so smart, what is _His Majesty_ driving at?"

"Hey," I say, leaning forward, and earnest look on my face, "real quick, before we go any further, let's not, like, _ever_, call me anything even _somewhat resembling_ the phrase, _His Majesty_."

Sokka pops an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Well," Katara replies, sounding a little annoyed, "for one thing, Zuko hates being called shit like that, and for another, not even everyone in this _village_ would be as welcoming of that knowledge as we are, nevermind the rest of the world."

Sokka nods. "Alright, fair enough, but what does the rest of the world got to do with it?"

Toph groans in frustration. "Oh, for fuck's…_Zuko wants us to join him on his little quest, you moron_."

Sokka blinks a few times, shock slowly filtering into his face, his eyes growing wider and wider until they look like they're going to pop right out of his head. He blinks some more, his mouth opening and closing, until, finally, Toph's words really sink in. He looks to me, sees me nodding and smiling, looks to his sister, who is also nodding and smiling, and then to Toph, who just looks bored and done with this whole conversation, and then, somehow, I'm not sure how, he looks to himself. In that instant, he transforms from a young man who's just been gob-smacked to a little boy who just got exactly what he wanted for his birthday. He starts vibrating a little in his chair, until he leaps to his feet, throwing his hands in the arm and shouting, _"Oh, fuck yeah!_"

I chuckle softly. "So, I take it that you're in?"

He claps his hands together, rubbing them with glee, a hungry smile on his face. "Fucking right I am! How could I not be? This sounds…like…fucking _awesome_." He snaps his fingers in the air, as if just realizing something. "And with my dad and all the warriors back, and, let's face it, the war winding down, the tribe doesn't need me here anymore. I can go, like, _do shit!_"

"And you can finally see why I kept to myself, all those years of traveling," I point out.

He waves this aside. "Psh. More like show you what you'll be missing, having to be all chaste and shit."

Toph arches an eyebrow. "Why would Zuko have to be all…_chaste and shit_?"

He turns to Toph, looking slightly offended. "What, you think I'm going to let him run around on my sister?"

Katara giggles. "I can do that all on my own, Sokka."

He frowns. "But…how? I mean, I take it we're not going to be doing the searching _here_…"

Toph scoffs. "Katara's coming with us, of course."

I look to Toph. "So, you're coming?"

Toph scoffs once more, a little more strongly this time. "Fuck yeah, I'm coming. You had any doubts?"

I shake my head, smiling. "Not a one, but I just had to be sure."

Sokka is stepping forward, leaning onto the table. "Hold on, back up a minute, guys. We really need to address this whole, _Katara's coming with us_ thing."

Katara crosses her arms, causing me to have a moment where I have to restrain a pout because her hand has left my knee. I don't say a word, though, because I sense a _sibling fight_ coming on. Even Toph is pulling a bit away, as if to clear herself from the line of fire.

Sokka is completely oblivious, though, because, well…_he's Sokka_.

Also, from the look on Katara's face, he's already lost. He just doesn't know it yet.

_I really hope I never get a look like that…_

_ Hopefully, I'll know to fold more quickly than Sokka does…_

"And why," Katara says, voice as light and sweet as the smile on her face is and the depths of her eyes aren't, "would that even be a thing to discuss?"

"Well," Sokka says, pulling himself up straight and crossing his arms in way that makes the two siblings look frighteningly similar, "you're a girl." He gives a confidant nod, once up, once down, and smiles, because of course, that settles things.

All Katara does is pop an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so? So, why can Toph come along?"

Sokka shrugs. "Well, she's different."

Toph tilts her head. "I am? What, I'm not a girl or something? Because I can drop my pants right now and prove that I am."

Sokka's eyes flare as he shakes his head. "No…umm…that's not…umm…_necessary_. And besides," he continues, turning back to Katara, "I never said I was okay with it. I'm just a little terrified of bringing the issue up in front of her."

"So," Katara says, her voice being to hollow out a bit, "you were just going to try to talk Zuko out of taking her while her back was turned?"

Sokka's face goes white, his eyes flicking to Toph and back. Meanwhile, Toph just sits back and smiles, enjoying the show. I resist the temptation to go get a bottle of _sake_ from the safe in Captain Fujita's room and share a few rounds with Toph while we sit back and watch the show, which really is turning out to be quite the entertainment.

"Well…umm…no, of course not, just…I mean…" He gives himself a shake, before re-setting his features and doing his best impression of his father. "Look, Toph is neither here nor there. Point is, I'm not letting you come with us."

Katara pops an eyebrow, her mouth curling into a bemused, rather dangerous-looking smile. "Oh? You, the big, bad Sokka, are not going to _let_ me come with you?" She turns to Toph. "Hey, Toph, when did we put Sokka in charge of this?"

Toph shrugs. "I dunno, I was pretty sure that this was Sparky's show."

Katara turns to me. "What do you think of that, Zuko?"

I raise my hands. "Hey, don't drag me into this. You don't need any help."

Sokka smiles at that. "So, you've got my back, then, buddy?"

I scoff. "What? Fuck no." I tilt my head to Katara. "I know what side my bread is buttered on."

He shakes his head, finally starting to look defeated. "And I thought you were my friend."

"And as your friend," I point out, "I'm hereby advising you to admit defeat."

"Hey now," Katara says, her smile finally reaching her eyes, though even then, those deep blue orbs remain just a little bit cold and hard, "I don't want him to give in yet. I'm still _dying_ to hear how he intends to stop me from joining this quest."

"The quest you've already joined," Toph points out.

"Hey!" Sokka barks, turning on her. "Don't help her!"

Toph giggles. "But it's so much _fun_, Snoozles!"

Sokka rolls his eyes and pinches his nose. "Oh, gods, not _that_ again…"

"Yes," Katara says, "that and every other thing that could possibly embarrass you. Because, here's the thing," she stands, placing her hands flat on the table and leaning forward, victory etched into every inch of her body (and trust me, I take the time to check), "I'm going. I've been going, and I'm going to continue to go. This isn't about you, and really, this isn't about me. This is about the world, and that means we need to think about how to best improve our chances of success."

Sokka visibly wilts under the pressure. "Yeah…well…how does having you along improve our chances of success?"

Katara raises a hand, and begins ticking off points. "Well, for one, I'm pretty sure Zuko would rather not be the only literate person on this venture, and two, I dunno, I'm pretty sure that having a skilled waterbender and healer along will come in handy, and three, I've wanted to do something like this my entire life, and four, my boyfriend may be Fire Nation, but I still have a debt with his people that needs to be settled, and, last but not least, _five_, I'm madly in love with Zuko, and I'm not letting him do this without me." She places her hand back on the table, leans back in, and says, in a calm, quiet, yet somehow deadly voice, "Any more questions?"

Sokka bows his head, accepting his defeat. "Nope. You win."

Toph scoffs. "Please. In order for us to call it a _win_, there would first have to be a contest preceding it."

Sokka shoots her a glare. "Please, don't rub it in."

Toph giggles. "Oh, but it's so _fun!_"

I clear my throat, finally rejoining the conversation. "That's enough, Toph." I look from one sibling to another. "And, as sexy as it is to see Katara assert herself at someone other than me…I do believe we have other business to address."

Katara plops herself back down with a smile on her face and a spark in her eye that makes me want to end the meeting right then and there and lock the others out for a while. Alas, duty calls, but my anguish is assuaged by the fact that she molds herself back into her previous snuggly position and says, "Yes, I believe we do."

Sokka sighs, rolls his eyes, and settles himself back down. To me, he says, "At the ball game tomorrow, you are totally going to pay for this betrayal."

I nod in agreement. "No doubt. All violations of the Bro Code must be rigorously disciplined."

Toph pops an eyebrow. _"Bro Code?"_

Katara giggles. "It's a boy thing."

Toph nods. "So, stupid?"

Katara shrugs. "Pretty much."

"Hey!" Sokka and I shout in unison, before I say, "So, anyways, as I was saying…"

All of which was somewhat immaterial, because we still had to face one last obstacle, hurl ourselves over one last hurdle.

_And it was big and scary and I was still a little terrified of it and its name was __**Hakoda…**_

* * *

So, last night, my phone pinged from an e-mail and I saw that I had just gotten the most satisfying review of my life. Basically, this person, while enjoying my story and not missing Aang, _was_ missing Toph, and advised me to see if I could maybe throw in a little more Toph. The best part? _This review was for Chapter 11._ This made me giggle with glee, not unlike a little girl. I really hope, my kind reviewer, that you read on that night, and I really hope that when you get to Chapter 19, I'm able to make your day.

Fun fact about language acquisition: Immersion is a remarkably effective method. If you're stuck in a land for an extended period of time, with no choice but to interact with people who don't speak a _word_ of your language, you _will_ learn the native tongue. You really don't have a choice, and you'll be amazed at how quickly you will start to pick things up. Shit, I've been dating a Latina for over three years, and just going to her _Tia's_ house every once in a while over that time has turned my Spanish from laughably bad to surprisingly tolerable. So…yeah…yeah?

Right…where was I…ah, yes, the story! So, Toph and Sokka are in, Sokka tried to be all…_Sokka_ on his sister, which is something I never got to address in _A Different Path_. By the time we pick up in that story, Sokka has had a good year of danger and craziness to get over himself with regards to his sister and his inbred misogyny. Here, though, Sokka is still _Beta Sokka_. He hasn't even met Suki yet!

Wait, there might be Suki? That would just be crazy. I mean, where would I find the time for that?

*shifty eyes*

_Anyhoo_, point is, we're moving right along. The Fellowship of the Avatar (_heh_) has been formed, and it's time to get final approval and set out on the first leg of our adventure. Speaking of which…

In the next chapter, Zuko and Katara lay it all out for Hakoda, who has a difficult question to ask Zuko, but totally not about what you think. Stay tuned!


	33. Chapter 33

Quick Note: Hey, who do I have to blow to see someone do some fanart? Because I got lost on good ole' today and…well…_I want to see some of that_. Please, help me out, guys! I literally can't draw two stick figures blowing each other in the margins of a spiral notebook. So, please, _make it so!_ (Sorry, I've been getting my fiancée into _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ lately, and I've got Patrick Stewart on the brain…) Anyways, read on!

* * *

33. SOMEHOW, I THINK HAKODA KNEW WHAT WAS COMING. I don't know how, or who told him, or who so much as gave him an inkling. Personally, I suspect some combination of my uncle, Sokka's big mouth, and the man's own intuitiveness (after all, he wouldn't have spent a good decade and then some giving my father's general headaches if he wasn't at least ten times more devious than he let on). At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that, when the four of us sought him out the day after our little conference, he seemed to be waiting for us. The man called Bato, Sokka and Katara's _uncle_ (that being, their father's best friend) intercepted us on our way to Hakoda's house and directed us to the tribe's meeting hall.

Well, I say _us_, which implies _all four of us_, but, as Bato made very clear, only Katara and I were to go inside.

It was very cold that day. The southern winter was in full force. Both Katara and I were wrapped up in fur-lined parkas, with thick gloves and thick pants and thick boots, all lined with fur. There wasn't much of a wind, so we walked with our hoods down, a scroll of maps tucked under one of my arms and Katara's hand in mine. When we began our solo walk towards the meeting hall, we had, by mutual, unspoken agreement, decided not to hold hands, to maintain propriety, to present the best possible image to her father.

Naturally, this lasted about five steps before our mutual nervousness overtook us. No one took anyone's hand; the appendages just kind of…_wandered over to each other_, as if on their own volition. Our hands clasped together, when we sensed it, we gave each other a quick look, then shrugged, as if to say, _Oh, well_, and from then on walked a lot closer together.

Every Southern Water Tribe village has a meeting hall, but Katara's village (more of a _town_, really, at least by local standards) was the chief village of the Yuupik tribe; thus, its meeting hall was very large, very old, and, in my opinion, very beautiful. The Southern Water Tribes really do have an almost magical ability to work wood, and it shows at the meeting house, where it seems that every inch and doorpost and corner is covered and carved into designs and shapes that seem to flow like water.

At the door, I pause, a tight feeling in my chest. My mouth goes dry, my tongue like a massive lump of sandpaper twisting and scraping around inside. I look to Katara, who smiles up at me, giving my hand a squeeze. I swallow the lump in my throat, and a moment, I can't help but feel just…well…_overwhelmed._

"How're you doing, babe?"

Her voice is kind and soft, full of the warmth of the sun. I feel it slice through the world around me, cutting down and deep into my heart. My chest remains tight, but it's a warm tightness now, hot and fierce. My best steams in the air, clouds puffing from my mouth, far thicker and hotter than the soft wisps escaping from Katara.

I shrug, shift in my feet. "Just feeling a little…well…_floored_, I guess."

She reaches out, grasps the other side of my parka, turns me so that I'm facing her. She steps close to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and linking her hands behind my back. She looks up at me, resting her chin on my chest, and smiles that…_that impossible smile of hers._

"Hey? I know."

I feel a smile steal across my face, tilt my head so that my brows rest against hers.

"Yeah…I knew you would…"

She laughs, soft and light as wind-chimes at sundown.

"I'd be a pretty shitty girlfriend if I didn't." Her smile curves across her face, until it's a little lop-sided. "And besides…well…my life has changed a lot, too, over the years. "

I look deep into the only eye that I can see, what with our faces this close. I look, search, for the hate, the fear, the sheer unadulterated _loathing_ that must have lurked there, prowled there, _burned there_, for so long, so long that I couldn't even _begin_ to imagine it. I look for it, and yet, I don't find it.

_All I find is love…_

"Hey?"

She presses her face a little closer into mine. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She gives me a quick kiss, then slides gently away. "Ready?"

I shake my head. "Not really. You?"

She giggles. "I've been preparing for this day all my life. Of course I'm ready."

I roll my eyes, reach out, and give her hand one last squeeze. "Of course you are." She gives my hand one last squeeze back, and then, without much further ado, she reaches out and knocks on the door. The door shakes as she knocks, once, twice, and then she pushes it slowly open. She steps across the threshold, into the muffled darkness within, before turning back to me and giving me a quick little bow, an amused smile on her face.

"Zuko of the Fire Nation, you are invited to enter."

Among the Southern Water Tribes, only members of a particular tribe may enter the meeting hall; all others, even members of other tribes, must be invited by a member before they can enter. I know this custom well, which is why, with only a slight pause to smile back, I bow deeply, full at the waist, and reply, "Katara of the Yuupik Tribe, I am honored by your invitation."

She throws me a wink and whispers in a voice only I can hear, "Well, get in here then."

I wink back. "Coming." I try not to show gratification at the split-second blush that crosses her face, I really do.

_Honest…_

We walk side-by-side down the center of the hall. To either side of central, dirt-packed floor, rows of wooden stands rise at a slant. It really does seem cavernous, with room for over three-hundred, enough space for all the elders of the tribe and anyone they care to bring with them. Katara pauses so that I can draw up to her, and then we walk, calmly and confidently (or, at least, _she_ walks confidently) down towards the end. There are no windows, but here and there, torches burn softly, casting out a faint, slightly ominous light. I try my best not to let my gaze linger too long on the figures sitting at the end of the floor, I really do. I recognize them both instantly, though, and I know from the way Katara shoots me a quick glance out of the corners of her eyes, she does, too.

It's really hard to resist the urge to laugh. I don't know how I do it, but I can't help but feel that my uncle's lessons have finally taken some sort of hold, which is, really, an appropriate thought, because, in the chair right next to the unmistakable figure of Chief Hakoda, is the equally unmistakable figure of my uncle, doing nothing to conceal his wistful smile while he calmly puffs on his beloved pipe.

In the Southern Water Tribes, all are considered equal, especially within the meeting hall. Sure, there are elders and leaders and such, but any member of the tribe, no matter how lowly, may say what they want to whomever they want, so long as they are respectful (and even then, disrespect is…well…_respected_, so long as the offender willingly accepts the consequences). It takes a lot of getting used to, but I can't deny that, somehow, it works for them, and works beautifully. Plus, to be honest, it's a bit of a relief after a lifetime spent in the intricate, often constricting ritual and routines of my homeland.

This liberalness, however, does not extend to outsiders. That is why I stay silent, while Katara smiles at her father and says, "Good morning, Dad."

Hakoda tilts his head and smiles. To the end of my days, I will never be quite able to fully reconcile the hardened general and chief that I met in the Earth Kingdom and the benevolent and, by Fire Nation stands, outrageously permissive _daddy_ (_for lack of a better word_) who produces that smile whenever his children come into view.

"Good morning, my dear. How are you feeling today?"

She shrugs. "Alright, I suppose. A little nervous, to be honest."

He chuckles. "I can imagine."

She laughs. "Yes, I believe you can." She turns, then, to my uncle, and gives him the bow that I have taught her, the one for those of one's elders to whom one is close. "And good morning to you, as well, Uncle Iroh."

My uncle chuckles softly, and returns the bow with perfect ceremony and etiquette. "And also to you, dear girl. I see that my nephew has begun to teach you etiquette along with your letters."

She gives a shallow bow of thanks for the compliment. _"Amarini ya gengo." And languages, too._

His eyes fly wide, and his smile grows wide and proud. _"Subarashī! Moshi ryōhō ga isogashikatta!" Wonderful! You two __**have**__ been busy!_

It seems that Katara is in much more control of her emotions than I am, because while she is able to just smile and give a heartfelt _arigatō_, I am forced to cover up my face's attempt to betray me by coughing quietly (_or so I hope_) into my hand.

Hakoda, meanwhile, though obviously not following the exchange, has seemed to grow, his chest swelling slightly out of what can only be pride. "Never, in all my years, could I have imagined that my little girl would learn so much." He stands and walks to his daughter, laying his hands on her shoulders, beaming down at her. "Your mother was right when she said you were going to grow up to be smarter than the both of us put together."

Katara wiped a small tear from her eye before giving her father a quick embrace, pulling away to say, "Thank you, Daddy."

He laughs. "And thank _you_, my dear. Indeed, it's due to your example that I've decided that it's time for culture to return to the South."

She arches an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"When the war is done, I'm going to find a way to get some teachers down from the North, so that all our people can learn how to read and write." He turns to me, a protective arm still draped over his daughter's shoulders. "What do you think of that, young man?"

I turn to face him, ignoring to the best of my ability the amusement etched into my uncle's face. I draw myself up straight, and give him a full, at-the-waist bow, saying, "Good morning, Chief, it is an honor to be invited here today."

He makes a half-hearted attempt at a straight face, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Your fire breathers really do love your courtesies, don't you?"

"I've always felt," my uncle says in a helpful tone as I rise, "that my nephew uses courtesy to cover his natural shyness."

Both Katara and Hakoda laugh, while I shoot my uncle a look that _should _have caused him to burst into flames. Sadly, nothing of the sort happens, so all I'm left with is to answer Hakoda's question: "I don't know if we love them, sir, but they do become habit after a while." Everyone but me seems to have a chuckle at this, but I press on. "And, in answer to your first question, I think that would be a wonderful idea."

He smiles, nodding. "I agree. It's time our Northern brethren stopped looking down their noses at us." He pauses then, looking me up and down, and his smile turns warm, kind, _paternal…_

The tight feeling in my chest grows a little tighter.

"Didn't I tell you something about the _sir_, Zuko?"

I resist the urge to bow. "You did..." I give a quick, nervous laugh. "Sorry about that…"

He waves it away. "Like I keep saying, don't worry about it." He pats his stomach, turns to my uncle. "Have you eaten, Iroh?"

"No, I'm afraid I have not." He gives a little bow of his head. "I'm glad to see our minds, as usual, are one."

Hakoda laughs. "Indeed." He turns to Katara. "My dear, your grandmother should be finished making a little plate for all of us. Would you mind fetching it for me?"

Katara quickly pulls away from her father, crossing her arms and stomping her foot once on the ground. "Excuse me?"

Hakoda raises his hands in surrender. "Don't worry, I promise not to talk shop without you here." He gestures towards me. "After all, I like Zuko far too much to put his life at risk like that."

The look on her face makes clear that she doesn't believe him, that she suspects some sort of trap. After seeing the way she tore Sokka to shreds, I'm not inclined to witness a repeat performance, especially since my intuition tells me that the three of us wouldn't stand all that much more of a chance. She rounds on me, seems gratified at what is no doubt a suitably terrified expression, then turns on my uncle, who raises his hands in imitation of Hakoda and says, "On my word as a tea lover, I assure you that this is no attempt to cut you out of the discussion. Rather, it is merely an attempt to get food."

"It's not like your grandmother would trust me to carry food all the way here," Hakoda points out.

Katara nods slowly, face still suspicious, before turning to me, walking up, leaning in very close, and whispering, _"If I come back and find out that they're lying, you'd dead. Got it?"_ No response seems necessary, so all I do is smile and nod and try not completely wilt while she strides out of the hall. She makes sure to slam the door behind her, before I let out a breath of air and turn to Hakoda, bowing once more and saying, "Please, sir, tell me that her suspicions are not correct."

Hakoda laughs, and pats me on the shoulder. "Have no fear, young man, I have no intention of getting you in trouble. I'm just hungry." He grimaces a little, rolling his head from side-to-side. "Also, there was something that I wanted to say to you, without my daughter here."

I straighten myself out, eyes wide. "So…wait…_was she right?_"

He shakes his head, face growing serious. "Not at all. But I have duties as a father, and she would take offense at what I'm going to say."

I nod, raise a finger. "One question?"

"Of course."

"Who squealed? Sokka?"

Hakoda laughs, shaking his head and pointing at my uncle, upon whom I turn with fury in my face. My uncle does nothing but smile under my glare, the second deadly one I've sent him in less than five minutes, before saying, "Don't worry, I didn't give any specifics, I just told my friend here," he points with the stem of his pipe at Hakoda, "that he should expect you to be bringing up a proposal for a journey with his children, very soon."

I grind my teeth, in appeased. "Just once, uncle, could you not contain yourself from meddling?"

Hakoda drapes an arm around my shoulders, patting my chest with his free hand. "There, there, Zuko, there's no reason to get upset. He was only preparing me! Nothing wrong with that."

I sigh. "I suppose not. So…what was it you wanted to say to me?"

His smile is gone in a flash, replaced by a strange combination of the stern chief and the protective father. He gestures at the ground, and I kneel there, taking a moment to get comfortable while he does the same across from me. My uncle, grunting a bit, rises and comes to join us, settling down across from where I presume Katara will eventually sit. We array ourselves in the dirt, the three points of what will eventually be a square, and I can't help but feel that this is…somehow…_right._ There's something about discussing the possible _fate of the world_ while sitting in the dirt in a tribal meeting hall at the bottom of the world, as far removed as one could possibly be from the grand palaces of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom.

_And, not for the first time, I find myself wishing that I had been born literally anywhere else than where I was…_

Hakoda doesn't speak immediately. Rather, he pulls out his own pipe, which rivals my uncle's in its state of well-worn age, packs it carefully, and leans over to let my uncle light it. The two men sit there, regarding me carefully, puffing slowly, contemplatively, before, finally, Hakoda takes a deep breath and speaks.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Zuko, when your uncle first came to me, my first reaction was to lock my daughter in a box in the cellar of my house and hurl you into the sea, followed quickly by my son, for allowing his friendship with you to blind him of his duty to protect his sister. I was angry, and, well, I felt a little betrayed. I've shown great faith in you, and up until that moment, that faith had been rewarded, and then some. You have been honorable in your conduct, both towards my people and towards my daughter, and, to be perfectly honest, though your…_origin_ leaves a bit to be desired, you've more than proved yourself to be _exactly_ the kind of man I would've chosen for my daughter." He frowns, looking down at the ground. "Still, though, to be frank, my initial reaction to your uncle's news could best be described as…_unamused_."

My one good eyebrow twitches at the flash of memory of a very young Mai, saying the exact same word in very close to the exact same tone of voice, and then twitches again as I suppress a burst of nervous laughter. I allow myself a brief moment of pride at the accomplishment; after all, for once, I didn't even have to rub my neck!

My uncle notices, and shoots me a quick look, but Hakoda, fortunately, does not, and presses on.

"Then…well…I began to think. Katara, as much as I love her, was never going to be a _traditional_ Water Tribe woman, which is only to be expected, since her mother was exactly the same."

"And her grandmother, as well, from what I can tell," my uncle offers.

Hakoda smiles at that. "Indeed." The smile vanishes, and _The_ _Chief_ is back. "Do you know anything about Katara's mother?"

I bow my head. "Only what Katara has told me."

He smiles thinly. "Which, I imagine, is a lot."

I smile back. "Yes. From what I understand, Kya was an incredible woman."

Hakoda's smile fades, and he bows his head. "She was. I didn't deserve her."

I nod. "I know what you mean."

He gives me another quick smile, before pressing on. "When I met Kya, we were young children. At first, she hated me, and then, the older we got, the closer we grew, until, when I was eighteen, I asked her father for her hand in marriage. Her parents, one of whom was the woman you know as _Gran-Gran_, to be blunt, _didn't approve_, especially Kanna, who saw me as the perfect example of all that was wrong with the Southern Water Tribes. I was blunt, gruff, rough, illiterate, and all the rest. Kya, though, responded to her parents refusing their blessing by basically kidnapping me in the middle of the night and taking me to the next tribe to get married."

My mouth falls open. _"No…"_

He nods, smiling. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true."

"I have to ask…how did her mother respond?"

Hakoda scoffs. "_Not well._ However, the more she grew to know me, the more she realized – I like to think – that her daughter made the right choice. Or, at the very least," his smile finally grows into a true, genuine one here, and _The Chief_ fades into the background, "that Kya was simply not to be denied." He tilts his head, eyebrow arched. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not."

He chuckles, turns to my uncle. "You weren't kidding."

My uncle shrugs. "What can I say? My nephew, for all his attributes, can be rather thick-headed at times."

I bite my tongue, and hold my peace, while Hakoda continues on.

"What I'm saying is, my daughter is now twenty-one-years-old, a grown woman, and, like her mother, she will follow her heart and what she feels to be right. This…_quest_ of yours, well…it's what she feels to be right, and if I tried to forbid her from going, she would just steal away with you in the night, and that would be that."

I bow my head. "Respectfully, I have to disagree. It would be more the other way around."

He winks. "You're learning, my boy. So, I've told you all that to tell you this, which is why I found a way for Katara to leave us alone for a few minutes: Do you, Zuko, whose father is not worthy to call you _son_, promise to keep my daughter safe from harm?"

I bow my head. "As much as she will allow me to, sir."

He nods. "I believe you, son, I do." He chuckles. "That's why I like you, even if you refuse to drop the _sir._"

I shrug. "It's just a sign of respect…um…_Hakoda_."

He rolls his eyes and waves it all away. "Please, stop worrying about it."

"It's like I keep telling you," my uncle says, "the boy worries too much."

_"Oji…"_ I growl, which only causes my uncle to burst into laughter and Hakoda to say, "Well, I'm glad to say that I finally learned a Nihongo word other than the swear words your soldiers shout during battle."

I frown, bow my head. "Not my soldiers, sir."

He bows his head back. "Of course. My apologies."

"None are required."

He rolls his eyes, turns to my uncle. "This boy! Gods!"

My uncle shrugs. "I know, right? What am I to do with him?"

"You two won't be doing _anything_ with him," a stern voice calls from the end of the hall. The three of us rise, my uncle and I bowing, as Katara rejoins the group, carrying a tray piled high with pieces of smoked fish, seal jerky, and dried fruit, all arrayed around a steaming pot of tea. Katara carefully sets the tray in the middle of the circle, and pulls four pairs of chopsticks from her pocket. She passes out three of the sets, keeping one for herself as she settles herself down at the corner of the square that we've, by mutual unspoken agreement, left for her. We all pause to say our respective prayers, then I pour out four cups of tea while the others begin eating. "So," Katara says, face still anything _but_ amused and speaking with a voice to match, "what did you boys talk about while I was gone?"

"Why," her father says, swallowing a piece of jerky, "I was asking Zuko when he intended to ask me for your hand in marriage."

I just about choke on my tea, while my uncle laughs and Katara just rolls her eyes. "He'll ask when I tell him he can ask, and not a moment before."

Hakoda turns to me. "Have you two discussed this?"

I shake my head. "Honestly, I was waiting for her to bring it up."

My uncle raises his teacup to me. "A prudent course, nephew."

I raise my cup in return. "I like to think I've learned a few things over the years."

"For example," Hakoda says, "how to figure out how to find the Avatar."

I blink in surprise, not least because I had just been told that my uncle had left out the details of my planned quest, while Katara's mouth drops open and her eyes flare in fury, all while she muttered her brother's name in a murderous tone. Hoping to save my friend from death, I reach over, pat her hand, and say, "Hey, I thought so, too, but apparently it was my uncle who blabbed."

Katara stares to glare at my uncle, but melts under his kindly smile and shrugs and says, "Oh, well, should've figured…"

Hakoda, though, is basking behind a grin that can only be called _devilish_. "Well, to be honest, Iroh only gave me an outline. It was, indeed, Sokka who filled in all the details."

Both Katara and I, in unison (something we've started doing a lot lately), shout, _"What?!"_

Hakoda shrugs, shoulders shaking with barely contained glee. "Didn't even take that much, either. I just walked into his room and glared at him in silence. Boy held out for a full fifteen seconds by my count."

Katara rolls her eyes and pinches her nose. "Gods…I'm going to kill him, I really am."

"Not if I beat you to it," I say.

And then we pause in our murder planning, because Hakoda and my uncle are practically rolling on the ground laughing. Don't ask me why; Katara debated it long and hard later that evening, and we never could come up with a satisfactory explanation for it.

_Maybe I'll get it when I'm older?_

_ I really don't know…_

* * *

So, funny story…there was actually to be a lot more here, but then I realized that it needed to be broken up into two chapters, so, that's what happened! Haha. So, don't worry, if you start to feel like I left it hanging rather abruptly there, it's cool, just click to the next chapter, and all will be well.

In _A Different Path_, I mentioned that I'm not a fan of the whole _Hakoda as an idiotic sitcom dad_ trop that exists in a lot of the ATLA fanfiction (and, to a certain extent, in Zutara-themed stories in general). My read of Hakoda was of a very practical, level-headed man, who, sure, has some adjusting to do, what with his long absence and his initial instinct to treat his children as the little kids he left them as, but, at the end of the day, comes to accept them in their new roles rather quickly. Now, through him into my universe, where the kids are…well…_not kids_, and thus he can't really justify treating them like _children_, and also given that he's now been home for a good seven-eight months (and thus has probably worked out most of the kinks), and well…we get what I feel is a more _real_ parent, at least, one of the good ones.

Also, it helped that Iroh ignored his nephew's plan and enacted a better one, because that's how Iroh rolls, _motherfuckers!_

I also have real-life experience on this, derived from my first true, official meeting with my fiancée's father yesterday. Her parents, by the way, are very conservative, and very Hispanic, and her father especially was initially leery of this crazy _gringo_ who showed up to sweep their daughter of her feet (which is my girl's words, _not mine_). But, yesterday, he saw that I treat his daughter with respect, and that I'm a good guy, and that I'll always do my best, and he shook my hand and told me I was alright.

So…yeah…_there_. I like to give my characters the parents I never had. _So sue me._

In the next chapter, we finally get a view of the plan, and Hakoda finally asks Zuko that difficult question that was supposed to go in this chapter. Stay tuned!


	34. Chapter 34

34. THE FULL PRESENTATION OF THE FIRST PART OF OUR PLAN TAKES ABOUT AN HOUR. Katara and I describe the plan together, using maps and a handy chart I drew up, while Hakoda and my uncle nod and ask for the occasional point of clarification. Katara and I speak in turn, with a level of comfort in trading off, one to the other, that I've honestly never felt with a person before. At a few points, it almost feels like we've become one person, moving in unison, movements part of some sort of strange, though incredibly pleasant, choreographed dance. Katara takes particular pleasure in showing off everything she's learned since our lessons began so long ago, and her father beams with an almost overwhelming sense of pride.

Indeed, it's a level of pride only matched by my own, though I imagine that I'm the only one being turned on to a tortuous degree.

_Damn you, young man's mind…_

The plan, at least the first part, is simple. The single greatest handicap we face is that my uncle and I never really pursued the Avatar with all that much _zeal_. From the beginning, we knew it was fool's errand, and once I allowed myself to come to terms with that (_which, trust me, was not a particularly pleasant experience for me; there may have been some scorch marks left on the walls of my cabin as a result_), we very quickly allowed ourselves to be distracted by other things. The closest we ever got to finding an answer was that we determined, with reasonable certainty, that the Avatar was, indeed, an Air Nomad, who was raised as a monk at the Southern Air Temple, not too terribly far to the north of the Yuupik tribe's lands.

"So," Hakoda says, stroking his beard, "why didn't you get any further than that?"

I frown, tapping the Southern Air Temple's location on the map. "Because, to be honest, the Southern Air Temple is very difficult to reach by land, near impossible. You can get to the island, but, unless you have an airship or a balloon or an airbender, you need a local guide."

"And," Katara says, picking up the thread, "let's face it, what few airbenders remained on the island were not inclined to assist Zuko in his quest."

Hakoda's eyebrow goes up. "Wait…so there are still Air Nomads at the temples?"

I shrug. "That, I don't know. I know we found people on the islands-"

"The temples are only a fraction of the area of the islands on which they're located," Katara points out.

"Exactly," I say, "so there are still plenty of people, some of whom I can't help but assume are either airbenders or, at the very least, Air Nomads."

"So," Hakoda says, "your great-grandfather's genocide – no offense-"

"None taken," I assure him.

He smiles. "Good. So, his genocide was not particularly successful…?"

"Well," Katara says, "think about it: Azulon spent, what, how many years, trying to wipe out every last waterbender here in the South? And what, exactly, did that actually accomplish?"

"A great deal of wasted lives on both sides." My uncle sighs heavily, shaking his head, his face filled with sadness. "I can't begin to tell you how often I begged my father to put a halt to that foolish campaign, but he was determined to out-do his own father, and got nowhere."

Hakoda reaches out a hand, pats my uncle on the shoulder. "At least you tried, Iroh, which is more than many can say."

My uncle bows his head. "I thank you for that kindness, Hakoda."

Hakoda smiles. "No thanks are, or will ever be, required." He turns back to me. "So, you know this Avatar came from the Southern Air Temple, but you don't know anything beyond that?"

I nod. "As I said, the locals weren't talking, and, well," I shrug, "I may have been a very angry boy-child then, but I wasn't enough of a prick to try to take my anger out on a bunch of war refugees. So, we poked around for a while, made a few attempts to get to the temple, and then…well…_gave up_."

Hakoda nods. "And how has your plan changed now?"

Katara smiles. "That's where the rest of us come in. You see, a fully armored Fire Nation prince – exiled or not – is not one to engender cooperation from his ancestors' victims. However, a small group of four young people, from all over the world-"

"And one of whom," I add, "who stopped trying to be a prince some time ago-"

"-will probably be able to get a little further."

Hakoda nods, mouth pursed in thought. "I see…so, you hope that the locals will be more inclined to help you?"

"That's the hope," I say.

"And once we make it to the temple," Katara continues, "we'll be able to look for something, _anything_, really, that will tell us what became of the Avatar."

"There's bound to be _something_ that _someone_ wrote down," I say, "a diary, a scrap of paper, _anything_, that gives a clue."

"And that's a clue we can pursue," Katara says, "to the next stage."

"And," I finish, "eventually, find the Avatar."

Hakoda nods some more, deep in thought, before raising a finger. "And what if the Avatar is dead?"

"Well," Katara says, "from what Zuko has told me and what I've read, the new Avatar is typically born within a week or two of the former Avatar's death. Thus, even if the Avatar is dead, if we can find out when he died…"

"You can find out who the new Avatar is," Hakoda finishes. "And since the last Water Tribe Avatar was from the North, the new one will be from the South."

"In which case," Katara says, smiling, "you'll be seeing a lot more of us than you thought."

Hakoda chuckles. "And wouldn't that be a shame?"

Katara rolls her eyes, but laughs right along with her father, who falls into a contemplative silence, puffing on his pipe. Finally, he raises a finger, and says, "It's a good plan, and I like it, but I do have a few questions…"

There follows another hour of back-and-forth, while my uncle and Hakoda ask their questions and Katara and I do our best to answer them. We do nothing to hide the element of vagueness in our plan, which, I can't help but feel, strengthens our case, rather than weakens it. Hakoda and my uncle would've been well within their rights to pull the plug on the entire venture, for a whole host of reasons, but, somehow, the fact that we both acknowledge the risks and are well aware of them, all while trying to control them, seems to set the older men at ease.

Finally, seemingly satisfied, Hakoda turns to me and says, "So, when were you planning on leaving?"

"At the end of the month, when the worst of the winter storms have passed."

"We'll be hitching a ride on Zuko's ship," Katara adds, "when they head for the Fire Nation, so the men who have families can get them and bring them back here."

I bow my head. "If that's still alright with you, sir."

Hakoda chuckles. "Of _course_ it's still alright. To tell you the truth, we'll be needing all the help we can get, once your father finally responds to our request for a peace treaty." He pauses to allow my uncle to re-light his pipe, takes a few puffs, then says, "And where will you from there?"

"The ship," Katara says, "will be about…what, Zuko, a month or so?"

"The plan is about six weeks, eight at the most."

"Right, the ship will spend six-to-eight weeks in the Fire Nation, and then pick us up on the way back."

Hakoda does nothing to conceal his joy. "You'll all be returning, then?"

"For a time," I say. "For one thing, the next stage of the journey after that will be even more difficult than the first, and besides, my people will need my help getting settled in."

"And who knows?" my uncle says, grinning. "Maybe my nephew and your daughter might decide to take care of some other business, as well!"

In perfect unison, Katara and I lock eyes with the floor and blush bright read, both while muttering curses at my uncle in our native languages while Hakoda giggles like a schoolboy and probably gives my uncle a _high-fucking-five_ or some gods-damn thing. I doubt he's eager to see Katara and I get hitched, but I also doubt that any parent will willingly pass up the chance to see their child turned into an embarrassed wreck.

Finally, after a further hour of talking, planning, and tweaking, everything is set and approved. I find myself thanking the gods for my uncle's wisdom, as he had obviously done the right then in encouraging Hakoda to have his fatherly freak-out the day beforehand, rather than allow it to wait until the last moment. In the end, it all went fantastically, far better than I ever could have imagined, right up until the very end.

Katara and I were gathering our things, getting ready to make our escapes and tell the others the news (_and, who knows, maybe find a way to have our own, __**private**__, celebration…_), when Hakoda rose, face grim, and said, "Zuko? A word in private, please." Katara was about to object, when he also turned to my uncle and said, "I'm afraid I have to exclude you as well, my friend." To this, my uncle bowed his head, made his farewells, and threw an arm around Katara as they walked towards the door. Katara still hesitated, but seeing my uncle dismissed as well seemed to make her feel better.

_She would still be waiting for me outside the door, of course, but still…_

As soon as the doors closed behind them, Hakoda turned to me and motioned back to the floor. We re-settled ourselves, and Hakoda gestured at my pocket. "Feel free to smoke, by the way. You may need it."

I pull out a cigarette, lighting it with a quick _snap_, and take a few drags before saying, "Is this going to be one of _those_ father-daughter's-boyfriend conversations…?"

He laughs at that, shaking his head. "Honestly…it's hard to have those with you, after everything you've done. I mean, what could I say? _Sure, young man, you helped bring myself and my men safely home from the war, and have treated my daughter with honor and respect in my absence, and never took advantage of either her or my people, and let's not forget allowing my daughter to fulfill her lifetime dream of learning to read and write, but nevermind all that, let me sit here and give you a hard time._ I mean…_really?_ I can be a tad irrational when it comes to my children, but no one's _that_ bad."

I frown, looking at the ground. _"I wish that was true…"_

He takes a deep breath, reaches forward, and pats my knee. "You're nothing like him, son, you know that, right?"

I look up at him, trying to smile, trying not to think that my one attempt, three years before, to grow facial hair had caused me to rip the mirror from the wall and burst into tears, because _that's how much I look like him_. "And so I pray every day, sir." And inside my head, my inner voice asks, slightly bemused, the same question it's been asking for quite some time that morning: _Sokka or uncle? Sokka or uncle? Sokka or uncle…_

_Probably Sokka. Should've known better than to trust that boy to keep his mouth shut…_

He smiles. "I'm glad to hear it." His smile fades, and his expression turns grave once more. "That said, I'm afraid that I have to talk to you about him."

I bow my head. "I'll do my best, sir, though I have to say that I know you far better than I ever knew him."

He nods, face unchanging. "I know, and I know you will." He chuckles a bit, adding, "Also, no one betrayed you, your ship's captain, Fujita, came to me and told me your story, on the journey back from the Earth Kingdom. He felt I wasn't showing you the proper respect, considering everything you've gone through."

I can't help but sigh at that. "Oh, Fujita…" I shake the feeling of warmth and affection for my crew away, turning back to Hakoda and saying, "So, what was your question?"

The grave expression returns, one final time. "I need to know…_why hasn't your father responded to our request for terms?_"

I want to answer him, I really do, but all I can do is shrug. "Honestly, sir, I don't know. The best case scenario? He's too busy finishing the job in the Earth Kingdom to focus on you." I pause, purse my lips in thought. "What, exactly, were the terms you offered?"

Hakoda sighs, face slightly ashamed. "Any that he felt fit to give us. Our hope is that he will settle for tribute and our recognition of his claim to being ruler of the world."

I nod. "From what I remember, that has long been his only goal for the South. The North, I'm sorry is far more wealthy, and in his mind, more powerful, and thus, is probably suffering under at least a few garrisons right now. Here in the South, though? It was my grandfather who was obsessed with the South. My father, if I know him at all, will be happy to ignore you for as long as humanly possible, so long as you bend the knee."

"And that, I'm afraid, we're all too willing to do. At the very least, we need time, a generation, at least, to recover, put ourselves back together, become functional once more." He pauses, sighs heavily, then says, in a calm, quiet voice, "And what's the worst case scenario?"

I look away.

"He wants to make a final example of you, for the whole world."

He sighs once more. "I was afraid of that."

"Me, too." I look up then, deep into his eyes. "And that's why I have to find the Avatar. Even if I can't save the world, at least I save the people who've shown me so much kindness."

He shakes his head, chuckling, the smile returning, though the worry remains locked deep in the depths of his eyes. "And you keep worrying about whether or not I like you…"

I laugh. "You know, your daughter said something similar to me just the other day…"

We shared a quiet laugh, and talked about kinder things for a little while, before, finally, reluctantly, we rose and strode out of the hall, towards the light. My spirit was heavy, then, but, somehow, my heart was full.

Somehow, in that darkened hall, I couldn't but feel…well…

_Hope…_

* * *

And that's the last of what I meant to go into one chapter! Gah, I'm worse at mission creep than the United States government in a Third World country that we don't understand. _Political reference for the win, BOOM!_

But, anyways, I really liked these last two chapters. I can't help but feel that we're really kicking with gas here. By the way, like how I snuck a plot in on you guys? And you probably thought I was just going to bombard you with, like, eighty chapters of Zutara fluff. Don't get me wrong, there's going to be an epic _fuckton _of that, but, you know, that's how I sucker you into the plot. See? _I'm a devious motherfucker like that._

_And now my fiancée is looking at me weird, because I'm giggling because I'm having too much fun with this Author's Note…_

ANYHOO! So, where was I? Right…umm…plot! Stuff! Things! Fluff! You'll get it all! Only now, we're changing scene! This time to the Southern Air Temple! Which brings me to…

In the next chapter, our intrepid would-be heroes get dropped off at the Southern Air Temple, ask some questions, and start poking around. Stay tuned!


	35. Chapter 35

35. "SO," SOKKA SAID, LEANING AGAINST THE RAIL OF THE SHIP, "THIS IS IT. THE ISLAND HOME OF THE SOUTHERN AIR TEMPLE."

Beside him, Toph tossed a cigarette into the sea and quipped, "I gotta say, it doesn't look like much."

Sokka chuckled. "I know, right? Kind of a run-down place." There was beat, during which Toph kept completely quiet and still and Katara and I, from where we stood on the other side of Sokka, my arms around Katara while we leaned together on the rail, were joined in quiet giggles but several nearby crewmembers. Then there was another beat, while realization dawned, and a final beat, during which Sokka smacked a hand to his face and muttered, _"Gods-dammit, Toph…"_

Everybody in ear shot, which included Toph, Katara, myself, and at least a half-dozen members of my crew, burst into hysterical laughter, all while Sokka buried his face in his hands and tried to melt into the deck. It was cruel, sure, but, well…_fuck it, Sokka made it so easy…_

And besides, Katara and I were just happy that _we_ weren't the targets of Toph's eternal mischief.

It took about two weeks to sail from the Yuupik tribe's lands to Patola, the name of the island on which the Southern Air Temple is located. The journey itself isn't much to talk about, almost ridiculously easy and smooth, no problems whatsoever. The closest to an event of note was the reaction Sokka had after the ship pulled away from the shore and we went below to settle in. Before we set sail, I had instructed Captain Fujita to prepare two cabins, one for the girls, the other for Sokka and I. As I should have expected, Katara immediately went to Fujita and informed him that we would, in fact, need _three_ cabins, one for Toph, one for Sokka, and the final one for both Katara and I. Thus, Fujita simply set up the cabin my uncle and I used to share for the two of us, and then designated the original cabins we were going to use for the others.

Sokka, naturally, was not particularly pleased, especially when Toph celebrated the news with a stirring rendition of her latest dirty song composition, which was so outrageously filthy even a few of the passing crewmembers were stunned into silence. Obviously not having learned his lesson a few weeks before, Sokka attempt to asset his so-called _authority_ over his sister, right up until Katara, with a faint smile on her face, began listing off every girl that her brother had ever so much as made out with. After about five minutes of trying to shout his sister down, Sokka spluttered and coughed into confused silence, which was followed by a few more minutes of opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, and then, at long last, a dramatic eye roll and a stern command to Toph to _not breath a fucking word to our father I swear to all the gods_. Toph merely giggled and launched right back into her little song, which caused Sokka to throw his hands up in defeat and stomp off to his room.

Katara and I were pretty sure that we had scored a victory, right up until the next morning, when Toph taught us both the importance of _locked doors_ by kicking our door open, springing into a handstand, and launching into a litany of filthy jokes the likes of which I'd never even imagined, all while Katara and I scrambled about and tried our best to use the bed's single sheet to cover up the fact that we weren't wearing a gods-damn thing.

The next night, we did, in fact, lock the door. That worked for about two nights, right up until Toph finished learning how to silently pick locks, and, well, _yeah._

_ That happened…_

All joking and friendly drama aside, though, it was a pleasant journey. It was strangely comforting to be back on the ship, especially now, when we had thrown out all pretense of being a warship and even Captain Fujita had decided to let discipline slacken a bit. It often had the feeling of a vacation cruise, and I half-expected to see the summer houses of Ember Island slide into view at any moment. There was plenty to do, too. Sokka and I continued our weapons training, Toph and I continued our language lessons, and Katara and I continued our _everything lessons_, which also included other, incredibly pleasant activities at night. We even managed to hold an old-fashioned Music Night, there at sea, during which Toph regaled the crew with her dirty songs and Sokka was treated to the sight of me dancing. Even though it was with his sister, he himself admitted that the show was more than enough to make up for the early dramatics.

Thus, I have no shame in admitting that I was a little saddened to see our destination begin to poke up through the hazy horizon. It meant the end of leisure, of singing and dancing and, depending on what kind of welcome we found and what kind of accommodations we were able to secure, the end of mine and Katara's…well…_entertaining evenings._

Still, though, duty called, duty and what I had finally accepted as my destiny.

Making landfall wasn't all that particularly interesting. My ship had a schedule to keep, so after making sure our shoulder packs were full of everything we needed, we took our leave of my crew, exchanged a few bows, and watched the ship quietly slip back over the horizon. Then, we turned around and began the long walk to the nearest village.

The walk itself was pleasant, if a little chilly. Winter still had its grip on the land, even it was slackening, and our breath misted in the air, leaving faint trails of pale white steam drifting off towards the sky in our wake. We walked at an easy pace, Katara and I in front, holding hands, Sokka and Toph in back, chattering away. We all talked a lot, actually, about nothing too special, mostly this-and-that, doing our best to enjoy ourselves while we still could.

We were getting near to where I remembered the village to be when from behind, Toph said, "So, what's this place like, anyways?"

"The village we're heading to?" I asked, not really paying all that close attention. The view around us was simply too gorgeous to pass up. The last time I had been there, I had been consumed by my anger, my hurt, _my pain_, and, while buried in that pain, I had missed…well…_this._ Before us, running off to either side, as far as the eye could see, were just the most beautiful mountains I had ever seen. They stabbed at the sky, towering fingers, jutting up as sharp as a dragon's teeth. They were covered in snow, their lower slopes carpeted in snow-covered trees swaying in the breeze, an endlessly moving carpet of blinding white dappled with green and brown and the pale-blue grey of rock and stone. The sun was out that day, shining weak and cold, offering not a bit of warmth but plenty of light. It struck the mountains and turned the snow caps the color of a quilt of diamonds thrown out like a welcome mat before us.

Even the lowlands around us were beautiful, the smell of fresh snow and pine and winter flowers strong in our nostrils. Katara walked very close to me, her fingers tightly entwined with mine, often resting her head on my shoulder, her eyes closed as often as not, a faint smile on her lips. Whenever she would lay her head there, I would take a moment to kiss the top of it, because I could, and besides, it was fun to hear Sokka make his traditional gagging noises. Even Sokka, despite his constant complaints of sore feet and empty belly, seemed a bit awestruck by the sights and the sounds and the smells. I had worried had he would react to finally stepping out into the world. About Katara I had no doubts; she would _thrive_, but Sokka? I was afraid he might be too Water Tribe to truly appreciate the experience. All such doubts were gone, though, as he seemed to practically grow a foot taller, right before my eyes, taking great pleasure in describing the world around us in intricate detail in answer to Toph's endless questions.

"Hey, earth to Sparky, still there?"

I shook myself out of my reverie, opened my eyes fully and, not for the first time, lamented the fact that half the world was permanently blacked out to me. "What was that, again?"

Katara giggled. "She was asking about the village we're going to, silly."

I laughed. "Oh, right, that. Well, Toph, what do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, why are we going there?"

I shrug. "Well, mostly because it's the closest place to the sea around here. It's where we landed the first time, my crew and I, and it's as good a place as any to come the second time."

"Ah," Toph replied, nodding. "Why don't they just put the village by the sea?"

My face falls, and my heart drops. "Why do you think?"

There's a pause, and then Toph mutters, "Ah, I see. My bad."

Katara squeezes my hand, and leans in close to me. "You know, you've really gotta stop blaming yourself for everything."

I give her a smile and a peck on the forehead. "Someone in my country has to."

"Yeah," she says, shaking her head, "_but not you_."

I arch an eyebrow. "Says who?"

She jabs me with a finger from her free hand. "Says _me_, idiot."

"_Idiot?!_ Hey, I thought you loved me!"

She giggles. "I _do_ love you, at least partially because you're such a sexy, adorable idiot."

I give her a kiss for that, while Sokka groans and Toph begins humming the tune to the latest filthy song that my crew had made the mistake of teaching her. Over my shoulder, I resume talking to Toph. "So, anything else you needed to know?"

"Yeah, what's it like, mostly."

I shrug. "Didn't I already tell you this?"

"Yeah, but you know me, I like hearing things."

I nod. "True. Well…it's not much. It's just a little village, mostly war refugees, at least some of whom are bound to be Air Nomads. I don't even think it really has a _name_, just a little village surrounded by farmland and orchards."

She mulls that over, nodding. "Right on. I like the sound of it. I mean, I'd never _live_ there, but I like the sound of it. Seems like a good place to start."

Sokka, lips pursed in thought, taps a finger to his chin. "Hey, I just thought of something."

"We'll notify the proper authorities, have them mark the day," Katara replies, winking at me.

"Hardy har _har_, sis. _Anyways_, as I was saying, how do we know how they're going to greet us? I mean, I can't imagine that these people are too keen on strangers, and, no offense, buddy, but I doubt you left the best impression last time you were here."

I have to nod my agreement to that. "I didn't, but, with luck, either they won't recognize me, or they'll see the company I'm traveling with and conclude that I've come up in the world."

"Awww," Toph says, "that's sweet of you to say!"

"Who said he was talking to you?" Katara points out, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Oooh," Toph whistles, "nice one. Remind me to fist bump you for that one. Also, I think I'll write it down."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "Not falling for that today, Toph."

Toph giggles. "Of course not. I'm just buttering you up with easy marks so I can sucker you in for the masterstroke."

Sokka sighs. "_Joy_. Still, what if they do recognize you?"

"Well," I say, "that's why you and your sister are going to do all the talking."

Sokka blinks a few times at that. "No shit? But…why us?"

"Because," Katara explains, "Zuko has been able to teach me just enough of various languages to get our point across, and, let's face it, you have a face that people like to trust."

"Yeah…but…wouldn't Toph work better?"

I shoot him a look over my shoulder. "Really? Let _Toph_ do the delicate negotiations and ask the potentially sensitive questions?"

Toph giggles. "I dunno, it could be fun."

"For _you_," Katara points out. "I've no desire to be chased out of town by a rioting crowd and an angry father."

Sokka chuckles. "Or maybe a rioting crowd _of_ angry fathers." He turns to Toph. "That ever happened to you?"

Toph shakes her head. "Alas, no, but, hey, the night, as they say, is still young. Who knows what the future will hold?"

"Only you," Sokka replies, shaking his head, "would actually _aspire_ to something like that."

"And what, that's never happened to you?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"What," Sokka replies, "get attacked by some girl's angry dad?"

"Yeah, that."

He shakes his head. "Nope. Perfect record here."

I give him a look. "Bullshit."

Katara laughs. "Sadly, it's true. Say what you will about my brother, but the boy's just got that _lovable idiot_ thing going on that makes it impossible to get mad at him. Every potential angry father was either off in the war or was immediately turned into Sokka's new best buddy."

I chuckle softly. "Yeah, I can see that." Suddenly, we're cresting the last in a long series of low, rolling hills, and there before us, spread out in a shallow bowl surrounded by carefully maintained fields and orchards (_just like I promised Toph_) is the aforementioned village. At first glance, it looks like not a day has gone by, the only difference being that, last time I visited, it was spring, and everything was in bloom. Now, it looks a little deader, what with the carpet of snow and the fallow fields, but livestock just rumbles about, and here and there, the villagers go about their business, just as they always have and, gods willing, always will. I point, call back, "We're here, guys," then level an unnecessary (_but still habitual_) finger at Toph and say, "And you, on your best behavior, got it?"

Toph gives a sweet little smile, and says, in the most sickeningly innocent voice possible, "Who, me?"

Every single one of us rolls our eyes and groans at that, and then we troop down into the village.

The closer we get, the more signs of life we see. The village itself, though maintaining that same calm, slightly drab pallor of nearly every little village I've ever seen, is still a bit of a riot of colors. From what I learned on my last and only visit, the former Air Nomad islands have become havens of a sort for refugees from all over the world. In the better maintained places, one will find civilians from every nation, even the Fire Nation, from which entire families often flee, doing their best to dodge the draft. Sadly, there are other abandoned islands that have become sanctuaries for the refuse of the nations, places where the dregs of every people and culture come together to discover a mutual talent for banditry and piracy of every sort.

Fortunately for us, this village seems to still be one of the kinder, safer places. We get a few odd looks as we stroll down the main drag, but overall, everything is pretty clean, well-maintained, and no one gives us a look that could be described as _dirty_ or _unfriendly_. By and large, the people take one look at us, take in our plain Water Tribe clothes and our mixed company and our youthfulness, and decide, rather quickly, that we must be rather harmless. In an added bonus, no one seems to recognize me. It's not hard to see why. The Zuko they knew was an angry eighteen-year-old prince, with a ridiculous haircut and decked out in armor, doing his best to hide his face behind a helmet and a growl. This Zuko, though? Well, he's almost twenty-three years old, is dressed in Water Tribe clothes, has a shaggy mop of hair and a calm demeanor, and, last but not least, is holding hands with a young Water Tribe girl. _Obviously_ not the same person, and besides, if anyone asks, don't you know that _that_ Zuko has a scar on the _right_ side? I mean, _everyone_ knows that, even the blind girl. _Gods._

I still let Katara and Sokka do all the talking, though, or, to be more precise, I stand back with Toph while Katara does all the talking and Sokka just stands beside her and tries his best to look menacing, which, to be honest, isn't very good (_of course, maybe I'm just speaking from over familiarity_). It takes a few tries, wandering around the village square, before Katara starts to get the hang of it, but once she does hit her stride, she's off like a shot. Before long, she's found out where a mixed family of a Water Tribe woman and a Fire Nation man are living, and we set off there.

The family in question is very kind, if very adamant on not wanting to get into any trouble. They decline to share our names, but, then again, we decline to share ours, too. Our cover story, we long since decided, is that Katara, Sokka, and I are servants of the blind teenager, who, despite her appearance, is actually high Earth Kingdom nobility. Her parents have sent her to wander the world for a year or two, until things back home settle down, and thus, we've come here. The girl _really_ wants to see at least _one_ of the Air Temples, and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, _she's willing to pay for it._

This catches the family's attention. Quickly, the mother shoos the children (_of whom there are __**five**__, by the gods_) out of the room, and then returns, sitting down beside her husband. All of us kneel on the floor, Katara in front, the rest of us arrayed behind. The woman begins talking very quickly to Katara in Suomi, asking a few more questions and trying to find out just how much the Earth Kingdom lady is willing to pay. Meanwhile, the husband keeps his eyes locked on me. I look back, trying to look at ease, maybe a little perturbed about the attention, but hey, I have nothing to hide.

Finally, though, the husband can't resist anymore. He nods at me and says, _"Anata dare?" Who are you?_

I shrug, and say, _"Sore wa anata ni nandesuka?" What is it to you?_

Katara and his wife have stopped talking at this point. The woman inches a bit towards her husband, laying a hand lightly on his knee, while Katara looks to me, her eyes saying that she wishes to do the same. I nod at her, trying to reassure her, and turn back to the husband, who is still eyeing me with distrust.

_"Anata wa kasai kokkada." You're Fire Nation._

I give a nonchalant shrug. _"Mochiron watashi wa. Sō?" Of course I am. So?_

His eyes narrow, and his body tenses. _"Naze anata wa sono on'nanoko ni sābisu o teikyō shite imasu ka?" Why are you serving that girl?_

I shrug again, slumping down and leaning my face into a propped up hand. _"Sore wa guntai yori wa mashida." It's better than the army._

He nods, relaxing a little bit. Every inch of him screams _deserter_, and he really seems to take me in, look me up and down, look past the golden eyes and see the scar, the soldier's bearing that I learned from my uncle and my tutors, and begins to put together the picture I want him to put together. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, he's speaking in Suomi. "So," he says, "you're not a spy?"

At that, all I can do is laugh. "Please! Even if I wanted to be, the first person from home who I tried to offer my services to would turn me over for the bounty."

His faces breaks into a thin smile at that, and he finally leans back, nodding. "Alright, we're okay."

Katara smiles. "Everything alright then?"

The man gives his wife a smile, and she smiles back, squeezing his hand one more time, and turns back to Katara. "Yes, everything's fine. We just…we don't want trouble here. We don't bother anyone else, and they don't bother us."

Katara bows her head. "I understand perfectly." At that point, negotiations are resumed, while to my side, Sokka leans over to Toph and whispers, _"Is it just me, or is it like looking my sister and Zuko aged twenty years?"_

Toph leans over, nodding slowly, and replies, _"Right? I'm blind, and even I can see that."_

The tension finally gone out of the room, I take advantage of that very moment to allow myself a thin, true, genuine smile.

_Though maybe we'll pass on the five kids. That seems…well…__**excessive…**_

* * *

So, a little bit on my view of the Air Nomads and Sozin's genocide. I touched on this in _A Different Path_, but I never really had the chance to get into it, mostly due to the fact that the story I was telling didn't really have much to do with that. Point being…well…_complete and utter genocide_ only works in the movies. _Actual _genocide, no matter how awful or horrific, is always messy, incomplete, and rarely even comes _close_ to accomplishing its goal. In my mind, that's what happened with Sozin. I imagined that he was able to hit the Western temple, the one closest to him, pretty hard, and he also hit the Southern temple, but the Northern and Eastern temples were able to prepare for him. Thus, the Air Nomads were hurt, probably _badly_, and it's not out of the realm of possibility that the ranks of the airbenders, who were at that time unprepared for war and would've made up the front lines, were badly depleted, but many would have survived, especially among the non-bending population.

Because, yeah, no, sorry Brian and Mike, but I don't subscribe to that whole, _Air Nomads are so awesome and special and spiritual that they're the only nation where everyone's a fucking bender._

You know, that statement would look really amusing to someone from, say, Britain or Australia…

_ANYHOO_. As I was saying, so, the Air Nomads are scattered, which, by the way, is the _actual_, true danger of genocide. It's not the initial killing, but, rather, the trauma that follows, and the way it affects the culture of those who were targeted. In my mind, a hundred-some-odd years later, the culture that Aang knew and loved would probably be unrecognizable to him. The Air Nomads have gone to war for their very survival, and things will probably never be the same. We see this time and time again in real life, in a dozen and more examples too depressing to go into.

But enough about that. What's up with the island, this _Patola?_ Well, according to the Avatar Wiki (an indispensable resource in figuring out how to fuck with Canon), the mountains where the Southern Air Temple is located are called the _Patola Mountains_. Thus, I decided to call the island that the Southern Air Temple is on…well…_Patola_. Because, let's face it, there's a lot of stuff there on that island besides that temple, and, well, even monks gotta eat, you know? After all, who was growing all of those green things Aang liked so much, ghosts?

Anyways, this note is officially _way_ too long. So, in the next chapter, we arrive at the Southern Air Temple, where we meet a familiar face from _A Different Path_, and the gang finally starts to get somewhere productive (_or so they hope_). Stay tuned!


	36. Chapter 36

36. IN THE END, THE COUPLE WE TALKED TO PROVED TO BE JUST THE PEOPLE WE NEEDED. Once they were convinced that we meant no harm, were not spies for my father, and (by their standards, least importantly) could actually _pay_, they took us to a friend of theirs, an actual, honest-to-Agni Air Nomad. He wasn't an airbender, but he still knew all the paths up to the main temple. For a modest fee, they made the introductions, and for another modest fee, the man, a rather weathered, spindly, elderly individual who still somehow looked like he could break rocks with his bare hands, agreed to take us up into the mountains.

The journey there was incredibly pleasant, and the views along the way were nothing short of magnificent. We slept out in the open, Katara and I snuggled together, Toph and Sokka scattered about, while our guide, who went by the delightfully strange name _Kalu_, dozed contently with his head resting comfortably on the stomach of his ostrich-horse, a beast as ancient and threadbare as he was himself. During the day, we walked, trailing behind our guide, who spoke little, merely puffing silently on his gnarled stick of a pipe while humming to himself. The rest of us took up his silence, and contented ourselves with taking in the sights.

Like I said before, the land that slowly revealed itself was nothing short of incredible. It took several days to reach our destination, and with each passing moment, we climbed higher and higher, until it almost felt like we could reach out and touch the sky. It was cold, sure, but a kind, gentle cold, and the snow that covered the ground was thin and crunchy. We traveled along a narrow, winding path, up and up, twisting this way and that, passing between towering trees that seemed to grow before our very eyes. The wind grew stronger, the higher we climbed, but somehow, Kalu seemed to know the path to follow that would always keep the growing mountains between us and the source of the breeze.

And the mountains…_oh, the mountains_. They were marvelous, breath-taking. I couldn't get enough of them. None of us could. Even Toph was entranced. She couldn't see them, but, as she tried to explain, forced into stumbling Guangzhou that I translated for the others, _she could feel them._ She could feel their size, their depth, sense their very _bones_, the life-force that pulsed like blood under the rock and dirt and stone. And when the sun would rise in the morning, dragging me from my comfortable snuggle with it, the light would dance across the jagged peaks and turn the world a blinding cacophony of rainbow-colored white.

Needless to say, after that journey, our final arrival at the temple was a bit of a disappointment. Toph put it best.

"Hey, Kalu, don't take this the wrong way," she said, shaking her head as she looked around, "but this place is a bit of a dump."

Katara, who was standing by Toph at that moment, responded by shooting the girl a glare and saying, "Toph, what did we tell you about being nice?"

Toph made a great show of pondering before shrugging and saying, "I haven't a clue. I probably wasn't listening."

Katara rolled her eyes and pinched her nose. "Because of _course_ you weren't." She sighed, and continued shaking her head. "And besides, how do you even _know_ it's a dump?"

Toph scoffed, waving a hand to encompass the temple grounds. "It's like I keep telling you guys, I'm blind, but I'm not _that_ blind. I can _feel _this place crumbling to the ground."

Katara rolled her eyes once more. "Well, I think it has charm."

It was now Toph's turn to roll her eyes. "You would."

While this exchange was going on, Sokka and I were helping Kalu unload the saddlebags that had spent the journey precariously piled on the back of the man's ostrich-horse. If Kalu took offense at Toph's remarks, or even so much as _noticed_, he didn't show it. Instead, he just continued on his task, unloading his animal and indicating where Sokka and I were to put things by a series of points and grunts. The bags were heavy and full to bursting, and smelled strongly of fresh fruits and vegetables and bread. When everything was done, we all took turns bowing our thanks to the man, who merely grunted, accepted the second half of his fee, climbed back on his mount, and rode off. In the past four days, if he had said so much as ten words, I would've been surprised.

And with that, we were left alone in what felt a little bit like an empty tomb.

"You know," Sokka said, leaning over while I lit a cigarette for him, "I have to admit, Toph has a point. This place _is_ a bit of a dump."

Katara was next in the _Zuko lighting cigarettes_ line, and took a few puffs as she frowned and said, "You really shouldn't talk about it like that."

Sokka arched an eyebrow. "Why not? I'm just being honest."

"Yeah," I say, finally lighting my own cigarette after lighting Toph's, "but it's disrespectful. Don't you realize what happened here?"

Sokka's face fell, and even Toph allowed herself to look bashful for a moment. "Oh…right…" Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. "You're right, of course. My bad."

Katara nods. "That's right." She turns to me, a thoughtful look on her face. "Babe?"

"Hmm?"

"What language do Air Nomads speak?"

I flick through my mental files for a moment before answering. "Something called, if I remember correctly, _Gorkhali_. My uncle taught me how to read it." I chuckle, turn to Katara. "Trust me, if you think _my_ alphabet looks weird, you should see theirs."

Katara giggles at that. "I can imagine. Can you speak it, though?"

I sigh. "I'm afraid not. There aren't too many Air Nomads hanging around the Fire Nation giving language lessons these days." I take a second to shake the lingering guilt away, before re-focusing my attention on her. "Why do you ask?"

She points towards the front entrance of the temple. "Because I think we're about to need it."

The three of us follow her finger, and see, filing out of the temple, a half-dozen people, dressed in faded Air Nomad robes and equally divided between men and women. All of them are relatively young, not much older than we are, though they all look a little strange, what with the shaved heads that make it hard to tell who's male and who's female, at least without a second glance. They pause for a moment when they see us, talking amongst themselves, before giving a collective shrug and resuming their walk towards us. We line ourselves up at their approach and give a low bow, Katara tapping Toph's shoulder so that the gesture looks somewhat synchronized. This seems to amuse our new acquaintances, who all smile and giggle at our gesture and bow back, until one of the women steps forward and gives us a quick bow of her head.

_"Svāgata. Tapā'īṁ kō hunuhuncha mailē sōdhna sakchauṁ?"_

Her smile is kind and warm, friendly, even; she's obviously decided that we're not much of a threat. It does nothing to alleviate our awkwardness. There's nothing quite as uncomfortable as being forced to try and communicate with someone with whom one does not share a word. We all look at each other, nervously shifting our feet and rubbing the backs of our necks, while the Air Nomads before us wait patiently, hands clasped at their waists, gentle smiles on their faces.

Finally, Katara shrugs and says in Suomi, "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. I'm afraid none of us do."

The woman nods, slowly, sagely, before turning and motioning towards one of the monks, who steps forward and turns to me, saying in thickly accented, rather broken Nihongo, "You are…Fire Nation, yes?"

I bow my head. "I am, yes, but I mean no harm, and I come in peace."

The man chuckles, pausing to translate my words for his friends, who quickly share in the chuckle. While this happens, I steal a quick look at my friends, and am rather happy to see that my look of shock and confusion is mirrored in their faces. None of us really has any idea what's going on.

Finally, the man turns back, that same calm, relaxed smile on his face. "Yes, we…umm…_know_. You come Kalu…umm…come _with_ Kalu. He no bring…umm…_enemies_."

"Ah," I say, nodding, "that makes sense."

Beside me, Katara is nodding, following along quite easily (hanging out with my uncle and my crew has allowed her to make picking up Nihongo rather quickly), but Sokka and Toph are left completely in the dark. Sokka seems content to wait and see, but Toph, naturally, takes this moment to lean over to me and mutter, "Look, if one of you two doesn't tell me what the fuck's going on, I'm going to bust a fucking tit."

Sokka narrowly avoids bursting into hysterics, while Katara rolls her eyes and says, "Patience, Toph. We'll explain in a bit, okay? _Promise._"

Toph huffs and crosses her arms, obviously unappeased, but seems to be willing to keep her peace for the nonce, though I tremble inside at the thought of her future vengeance. That drama averted (_for now_), I re-focus my attention on the man before me, who has been waiting patiently throughout the entire drama, looking delightfully amused. My attention back on him, he chuckles softly and says, "Here…umm…why you?"

I start to bow my head, but at the sight of the amusement with which the assembled party seems to view my inbred courtesies, abort the gesture. I cover the gap by coughing into my hand, before saying, "We are here to seek information on the Avatar."

The man nods slowly, his smile turning into a faint halfway point between a grin and a frown. "Oh? You look for Aang?"

My eyes widen a bit at that, and I feel the enlightenment ripple through my friends. Sokka leans over, asking in a quiet voice, "I heard a name. Who's Aang?"

"Aang," Katara replies, "it would seem, is the Avatar."

"Or at the very least," Toph points out, "_was._"

Sokka nods, pursing his lips in thought. "Well then, it looks like we're finally getting somewhere."

"That," Katara says, speaking the words in my mind, "remains to be seen." She steps closer to me and takes my hand, squeezing it tight and giving me a little look of encouragement. I smile back, then turn to my new friend.

"Yes," I say, "we're looking for Aang, though we didn't know that before."

It takes a few tries to get the message across, before the man nods and smiles and does a little translating back to his companions. The first person we met, the woman, frowns, and asks a question that sounds rather sharp and unfriendly, or at least, from what I can tell, by their standards, because all the others seem to not be pleased by how she says it, though they all obviously agree with the sentiment. The man, nodding, turns back to me, and asks, "Why you look for Aang? For…Avatar?"

"We hope," I say, choosing my words carefully, my grasp on Katara's hand tightening by the minute, "to restore balance to the world, the end the war, to try to fix what's gone wrong." Again, this takes a few tries to make sure he understands, but my words seem to be the right ones. When he relays this back to the others, their frowns soften, and even the woman who asked the question seems relieved at my answer. There follows about five minutes or so, while they all confer quietly amongst themselves, while my friends and I stand in the sun, feeling a lot like bumps on a log. We've all burned through our cigarettes by now, and I now I'm itching for another, but I resist the temptation. I feel like we're at some sort of critical moment, the first trial that will determine whether or not my second attempt to find the Avatar will turn out as pointless as the first.

Finally, the man turns back to me, once more smiling, while the others move to the saddlebags that Kalu dropped off and begin picking them up and carrying them inside the temple. "You, come with?" He taps on his chest. "We take you…to…one who help?"

I relay this for Sokka and Toph's benefit, after which we all bow and give him our thanks. He is greatly amused by this, then, with open, gentle gestures, begins ushering us into the temple itself.

As much as I hate to admit it, or even _think about it_, Toph was right: The place, for lack of a better word, really is a _dump_. It's obvious that people still live there, but not many, and they're probably scattered through the ruins, not numerous enough to do more than maintain where they physically live. Everything else is in various states of disrepair. Some buildings and structures are completely collapsed, piles of rubble strewn along surprisingly well-maintained paths, while others lean or tilt or seem to crumble before our very eyes. We spy other Air Nomads from time-to-time, monks and nuns of various ages, but the impression I get is such that I'd be very surprised if more than a few hundred people lived here.

Toph seems to feel it more than anyone. The decrepit, hollow feel of the place seems to way down on her, causing her to turn uncharacteristically quiet and thoughtful. She walks very close to Sokka, a pensive look on her face, eyes on the ground. At one point, several minutes after we walk in through the entryway, she looks to me and asks, "Zuko?"

"Hmm?"

"How many people used to live here? Before the war."

I can only shrug. "Honestly, no one knows. The Air Nomads used to keep to themselves, and besides, they were _nomads_. They didn't tend to stick to one place long enough to be counted."

She nods. "Makes sense…but were there any guesses?"

I sigh, feeling defeated and beaten by the question. "They say that there were upwards of a half-million people living around the Western Air Temple, including about twenty-thousand monks and nuns at the temple itself."

Sokka whistles. "Wow…that's a lot. Who said that, if no one was counting them?"

My heart twitches at the question, but, as usual, Katara saves me, shooting her brother a look and saying, "Drop it, Sokka."

He looks like he's about to fire a retort, until Toph socks him one in the arm and gives him one of her patented _looks_. Realization dawns on his face, and he mumbles an apology before continuing the rest of the walk in silence.

I feel for him, I really do. It's not his fault. It's just…_I don't want to talk about it…_

_ I don't want to think about it…_

_**It makes me want to cry…**_

Katara walks a lot closer to me after that. They all do, really. Sokka sees the shame in my face and Toph feels it and before I know it, all of us are walking together, hand-in-hand, giving each other strength in this place of darkness and bad dreams and horrors that will never, _should never_, be forgotten.

Our final destination, it seems, is a large courtyard, well-trimmed and maintained, the space swept clean and the plants and the grass cut and polished. There's a feeling of peace here, a feeling of warmth and welcome. I don't know why, but I instantly feel a good ten pounds lighter, the second I set foot on the grass. All of us do; a sigh of relief seems to roll through us.

_And it all seems to emanate from the man sitting in the middle…_

Our guide strides forward, leaning down and speaking to the man sitting in the grass. A quick conversation passes, before our guide stands, gives us what obviously pass for a _bow_ among the Air Nomads, and makes his exit. We're left alone for a time, completely in silence, while the man in the courtyard finishes whatever he was doing.

I take advantage of the moment to look around, to take in where we are. Like I said, it's something of a courtyard, round and curved in shape, like the entire temple, seemingly devoid of sharp corners or harsh edges. Everything feels…well…_airy_, flowing and twisting and graceful in a way that puts even the Water Tribes to shame. The colors are neutral, but bright, somehow, even amongst the snow that dapples everything from foot to tip. The man is facing away from us, so that all we see is his bald head, shining in the sun, but we get a great view of what he's looking at (_assuming he's looking at anything_). It looks like some sort of…well…_door_, only it's a door without knobs or keyholes or anything that would give any indication of how to open it. It's made of dark, burnished wood, gleaming in the light, and there are four large swirling brass fixtures on it, forming the four corners of a square, all of them linked by a length of what looks like tubing. It's hard to describe, and it's rather confusing, and Toph grumbles just enough to let us know that she's irritated that we're intrigued by something we're not bothering to describe to her. Still, though, it's…_interesting…_

_ Mostly because the man before us seems so captivated by it…_

Finally, he finishes whatever meditation he's doing. He stretches, the first real movement we've seen, standing and rolling around on his hips, cracking his back and giving a very satisfied-sounding sigh. He shakes his limbs, getting out the stiffness (_just how long has he been here?_), before, finally, turning to us and smiling.

It's hard not to return that smile. It is, without a doubt, the warmest, friendliest smile I've ever seen. The man could give my uncle lessons in the art of projecting benevolent warmth. He looks to be about my uncle's age, mid-to-late-fifties, with a clean-shaven face and laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He's very thin and bony, almost like a scarecrow that's missing half its stuffing, but for all that, he projects an air of great strength and determination. My mind flashes back to Kalu, and I begin to wonder if being deceptively small is an Air Nomad trait.

He bows to us, easily and gracefully, in a manner that even my old etiquette teacher would approve of, before rising and saying in perfect Nihongo, "Welcome, friends. I understand that you've come on a very delicate quest."

I blink. His pronunciation, accent, syntax, all of it, is perfect; I can tell right away, just from those few words. I'm a little floored; the last thing I was expecting was _that._ I clear my throat, though, and bow back. "I apologize for any misunderstanding, but only my girlfriend and I speak Nihongo well. It would be better if we spoke Suomi…if you know it."

He laughs. It's a wonderful laugh, big and full, and when he speaks, none of us are surprised to find that his Suomi is just as perfect as his Nihongo. "Why, of course! Are all of my new friends following along now?"

Sokka heaves a sigh of relief, while Toph smiles and says, "About time someone said a word I can fucking understand."

The man chuckles at that, _giggles_, almost. "My, my, I have a feeling that you, young lady, have quite the personality."

Toph beams under the praise. "Gods-damn right I do."

The man beams right back. "Remind me to tell you all of my best dirty jokes." He winks at the rest of us, saying, in a conspiratorial tone, "I'm afraid the novices don't always appreciate my sense of humor."

Toph's face lights up, and she almost squeals with glee. "You know dirty jokes? Like, ones I haven't heard yet?"

The man bows. "I can only hope, and, at the very least, I have a feeling I'll learn some from you. What is your name, by the way?"

Toph jabs a thumb to her chest. "I'm Toph."

He nods. "A pleasure to meet you, Toph." He turns to Sokka. "And you, young warrior?"

Sokka blinks. "_Warrior?_"

The man nods. "Of course! I can see it in your bearing, your strength, and let's not forget, you do wear the Water Tribe wolf-tail."

Sokka blushes, reaches up and runs his hand over his hair. "Well…thank you, sir, and yeah, I'm Sokka."

The man bows once more. "A pleasure, Sokka." He turns, finally, to Katara and I, a twinkle bursting out in his eyes to join the smile on his face. "And who might you two lovebirds be?" He holds up a hand. "And might I say, it is such a pleasure to see such a nice, handsome young couple such as yourselves."

Katara and I blush bright red at that, mumbling and stuttering a bit before Katara says, "I'm Katara, and this is my boyfriend, Zuko."

The man bows once more. "A pleasure to meet you, young lady, young sir. I," he continues, placing a hand on his chest, "am called Lobsang, and I'm, sorry to say, the head of this temple, or what remains of it." He focuses his attention on me, his smile seeming to grow even more kind and understanding. "And, before we continue, I wanted to tell you, young prince, to please relax. It is not your fault what happened here, and you should have to carry the burden for the crimes of your forefathers."

To say that I'm stunned by this statement would be a grotesque understatement. I am, almost literally, _floored_. I actually feel the world sway around me a bit, and if it wasn't for Katara squeezing strength into my hand, I probably would've fainted right then and there. I feel heat in my face, cough a few times into my hand, and finally manage to say, "But…how…_how do you know who I am?_"

The man called Lobsang shrugs. "It's not hard to figure out. A young Fire Nation man, about twenty-three or so, with a scar on his face and what is obviously a royal education and upbringing and yet, seems to be eager to find the instrument of his father's downfall? Well…" He shrugs once more, looking very humble. "It wasn't _that_ hard to figure out." He reaches up, taps a finger to his nose, and winks. "And, besides, the name was a dead giveaway."

I chuckle nervously, even as I feel…well…_good_. "Heh…yeah, I suppose so."

"So," Toph says, "not that I'm not having a ball, but…can you help us?"

Lobsang sighs, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "Alas, I may not. The time of the Avatar was long before my own, and any records that might exist of where he went are locked away behind this door."

We all fall a bit at that. "So…there's nothing we can do?" Sokka asks. "You can't open the door?"

Lobsang rolls his eyes. "Of _course_ I can open the door. All I have to do is bend some air through this opening," he points at what appears to be the end of the tubing winding around the door, "and the door will open just like _that_." Here, he snaps his fingers. "However, I've never opened the doors, or gone inside."

Sokka scratches his head. "If you don't mind my asking…why not?"

Lobsang smiles. "Because I didn't feel that it was my place to do so. Behind this door may lie the answers to the fate of the Avatar, but I never felt that it was my destiny to pursue that course. Rather, it has been my destiny to fight for my people, and now, in my old age, to help raise and train a new generation, such as we are."

"Well," Katara asks, looking as if she's feeling the same blossom of hope that I am, "would you mind opening it up for us?"

Lobsang bows. "Of course not. In fact, you are just the people I've been waiting for."

"How could you possibly know that?" I ask, feeling a lot like I'm talking to my uncle.

Lobsang winks and taps his nose. "I could explain how, of course, but what would the fun of _that_ be?"

Katara rolls her eyes and whispers to me, "_Did you know your uncle was an Air Nomad?_"

I chuckle, whisper back, "_I was just thinking the same thing,_" before turning back to Lobsang, bowing, and saying, "Well, if it's alright with you, we humbly beg to be allowed past this door."

Lobsang smiles, bows back, and says, "It would be my pleasure."

"And then," Toph says, "dirty jokes!"

"And food!" Sokka adds. "We get food, right? Like, meat?"

Lobsang sighs, shrugs, and says, "Well, about that…"

* * *

Man, I am doing some long-ass chapters lately…

Anyhoo! I'm in a bit of a hurry today. The girl and I have a date to go watch the USA vs. Belgium game (for the record, we're super pissed that Mexico got knocked out, and since we _really_ want this to be Latin America's cup, we're totally rooting for Belgium), and we're running behind on that, since I just _had_ to get this chapter out while it was still fresh.

Point being? Short author's note today. I'm sure you're all devastated.

But yeah, look! It's Lobsang! My readers from _A Different Path_ will recognize him! Now, if you do recognize him, please, no spoilers, and also, trust me, I don't plan on doing that again. And remember, am I not a merciful writer? *wink*

For those playing the home game, _Gorkhali_ is an old Nepali word for…well…_Nepali._ The current Nepali word for their language is _Nepali_, which isn't as fun as _Gorkhali_, I think we can all agree. Also, yes, I know, the Air Nomads should speak Tibetan, but guess what? _Google Translate doesn't have a Tibetan setting_, probably because of some political bullshit with China. So, yeah, oh well. Nepali has a cool alphabet, though!

Anyways, in the next chapter, it's kind of a goods news/bad news kind of day. Stay tuned!


	37. Chapter 37

37. IF WE'D KNOWN HOW THE DAY WAS GOING TO END, KATARA AND I WOULD HAVE STAYED IN BED. Sure, the day still would've ended in more-or-less the exact same way, my life being what it is, and that day being what it was, but at the very least, as Katara and I agreed later, we would've spent the day in a far more pleasurable (_if less productive_) way.

The day itself began in as innocuous of a manner as was possible. Lobsang had well and truly rolled out what passed for a red carpet at the temple for us. We were given three big, comfortable rooms all to our own, which were parceled out in what has become the traditional manner. Sokka, showing a level of maturity and forward-thinking that I would not have expected, picks a room as far away from ours as humanly possible.

Toph, though, does nothing of the sort, choosing a room right across the hall. She enjoys this proximity, and the opportunities it provides, greatly. Katara and I do not.

That final morning in the temple, the world is soft and quiet when I wake up. The bed I'm in is the perfect size for snuggling, a favorite activity of Katara's that she is in the midst of indulging in. She's curled deeply into my, our arms around each other, snoring in that soft, barely audible way of hers. I press my face into her hair, nuzzling my nose into her scalp, relishing the warmth and the smell and the way her hair tickles my nose. I wake her up with a long, deep kiss, which brings her back into the waking world with a delicate moan purring in the back of her throat.

"Good morning," I whisper, punctuating this greeting with a quick peck.

She smiles at me, her eyes still hazy with sleep and what I can only hope were good dreams. "Morning," she whispers back, and returns my peck with one of her own. "Sleep good?"

I smile, pressing my forehead to hers. "Of course I did. You?"

She giggles softly. "I always sleep well when I'm with you." She nuzzles her face into my chest, sighing as she finds the exact spot she's looking for. "You know, when we head back home, I think I might just move in with you."

I chuckle, and begin playing with her hair with one hand while the other begins tracing lazy patterns up and down her bare back. "Not that I'd complain, but wouldn't your father have a thing or two to say about that?"

She scoffs. "_Please._ He has no room to talk."

I arch an eyebrow. "Oh? That so?"

"Heh…yeah…let's just say that my birth was very fortuitously timed." She trails a few kisses along my collarbones. "And besides, no matter what, I think it'd be worth it. Between you and me, I've kind of gotten addicted to this."

I shrug, taking a moment to concentrate on a particularly tangled knot in the depths of her hair. "You and me, both. Of course," I continue, working hard to keep my voice light and nonchalant, "if he really objects, we could just get married or something…"

She giggles. "Now, _there's_ a thought. No matter what, I intend to enjoy this as much as possible."

I laugh. "Well, then why don't we have some enjoyment?"

We don't waste much time after that, which is why we're in the middle of…ahem…_enjoying things_ when Toph kicks open the door and bellows, "_Good morning, lovebirds! How's the fucking going today?!_"

Toph interrupting us in various states of intimacy has become such a set facet of our lives that we barely even flinch, merely rolling our eyes and sighing (though in a different manner than we doing so not a few seconds beforehand). From her position on top of me, Katara groans and turns on Toph with a venomous glare, grinding out through gritted teeth the words, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Toph, _do you mind?!_"

Unperturbed, Toph merely laughs and hurls herself into one of the room's chairs, propping her feet up on a table and leaning back, hands laced behind her head. "Not in the least. How's it going for you two?"

"Well," I snap, reaching down to pull the blanket up towards Katara's shoulders (_though I haven't the faintest idea __**why**__, it's not like Toph can see anything_), "if you must know, things are going rather well at the moment."

"In fact," Katara continues, still trying to get her breath under control, "things are going so well that we'd both appreciate it you came back in…oh…what do you think, Zuko, half-hour?"

I pout. "That's all?"

She scrunches her nose at me and does a little wiggle with her hips, which sends an electric spark up my spine. "You're right. Make that an hour, Toph."

Toph shrugs, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Hey, don't mind me, it's not like I can see anything. Finish up, I'll wait."

We start to wilt with defeat at that statement. _Fuck_. Katara huffs, doing nothing to conceal the pout on her face, which no doubt mirrors mine. "You're, like, completely evil, you know that, right?"

Toph shrugs, her grin if anything getting _bigger_. "I know. What can I say? I'm a girl of many abilities."

"_Isn't that the fucking truth_," I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" Toph asks.

"_Nothing._" Accepting that we've been beaten, Katara and I reluctantly disentangle ourselves, gathering up some clothes and getting ready for our day.

From there, things progress much as they have for the past three weeks or so. We all take breakfast together, where Sokka goes on his at this point habitual rant about the lack of meat to be found, culminating in his usual promise to catch one of the winger lemurs that hung around the temple, chattering away and just in general driving him insane. We responded to this tirade as we usually, Katara and I rolling our eyes and Toph eagerly egging him on. Once he finally ran out of steam, the four of us enjoyed a final cup of tea before heading off to get some work done.

The work, as it turned out, was dreadfully difficult. The door before which we had found Lobsang meditating was the entrance to the very heart of the temple, where we found the library, the senior monks' quarters, and all kinds of goodies like that. In a perfect world, it would have been a simple matter of finding out what room was what and going from there. Unfortunately, the world had stopped being anything _remotely_ perfect long before. This part of the temple had itself suffered the worst damage during Sozin's campaign, due to the fact that it was here that the most powerful airbenders had made their final stand. It also didn't help that, for about thirty years or so after the attack, the temple itself had stood completely abandoned, until the Fire Nation was distracted enough by its war with the other three nations for the Air Nomads to feel safe enough to begin reclaiming the place. That was when the inner precincts had been sealed off, out of respect for the dead and due to a feeling that the ones who would solve the mystery of the Avatar had not yet made themselves known.

It was often a depressing job, too. Over the years, the Air Nomads had done their best to find all the remains of those who had died and give them proper burials, but even with their diligent efforts, the day was rare when we didn't stumble upon at least one skeleton, hidden away in some isolated corner of the compound. Everywhere we looked and poked and prodded and snooped, we found the signs of long-gone struggle and death. Walls were covered in scorch marks, weapons lay scattered on the ground, and we even found what remained of an old war balloon, buried in the side of a shattered building. Especially in the first days, I often left the compound with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes. It was only through the efforts of my friends that I was able to keep myself pulled together.

And so it had gone, for over three weeks now, the four of us, often accompanied by Lobsang, rattling around the inner precinct, all but tearing the place apart. We hadn't the faintest idea what we were looking for, so we looked for anything at all. Books, notes, diaries, papers, letters, account ledgers, even receipts and work orders, were carefully found, gathered together, and presented to Lobsang for translation. Lobsang himself became truly indispensable; as it turned out, Gorkhali has two entirely different methods of writing. One of them is the form my uncle taught me, but which is only used for upper level writing, such as academic works, official papers, and things like that. For informal writing, such as for letters and diaries and things not intended to be seen by anyone but Air Nomads, there's an entirely _different_ system of writing that I couldn't make heads-or-tails of at all. Lobsang knew it, though, and happily answered all of our questions, never once faltering from his usual calm, cheerful, friendly demeanor.

It was, in the end, exhausting work, tiring and often frustrating. For over three weeks of work, we had discovered very little, and most of the important things we had learned had come from Lobsang, who was a fountain of knowledge when it came to both the inner workings of an Air Temple as well as what little he knew of the goings-on at this particular temple before the war. We knew, beyond a doubt, that the Avatar had, indeed, been born here and identified very early, within a year of being born. We knew that his name was Aang, and that he was immediately taken into the temple upon being identified to begin his education and training. We knew that he had attained his master airbender's tattoos (a practice which the Air Nomads, for obvious reasons, have seen fit to abandon over the past century, as evidenced by the fact that Lobsang has none) at the unprecedented age of twelve, and that he would have been about fourteen or so when the war began. And that, really, was about all we knew, up until the end of what turned out to be our second-to-last day at the temple.

That day, we had finally found our way into the quarters of the senior monks. In what was apparently once an office, we found a record of which monks had been assigned as mentors to which novices. According to Lobsang, the monk who was the mentor to the boy named Aang was a man named Gyatso. That was the clue that we had decided to pursue that final day.

We entered the building where the senior monks had lived with our hearts in our throats. Each one of us felt that this was our last real, solid lead, that if we either couldn't find the room we were looking for or, just as bad, didn't find anything worthwhile once we got there, then we would officially be fucked. The questions hung heavy in the air as we began searching through the rooms, Lobsang following lightly at our heels. _What if there is nothing to find? What if Gyatso lived in the __**other**__ dorm, the one that is now nothing more than a pile of rubble and stones? What if the soldiers who destroyed this place had the exact same ideas that we did? What if they already found the right information and finished the job? What if…?_

_ What if…?_

_ What if…_

_**What if it's all already over…**_

It was noon. The five of us were sitting on the floor of the eleventh room that we had searched, encased in the musty smell of time and decay and crumbling scrolls and weathered rock. Dust traced intricate dances through the light streaming in from the windows, and the air was stuffy and stale, tasting of age and a century of oppression and despair. It was, in short, the worst possible place to call a break, but all of us (except for Lobsang, who never even seemed to so much as _frown_) were very tired, very worn out, _very worn down._

"So," Toph said, munching half-heartedly on a peach, "how many more rooms do we have to check?"

We all turned to Sokka, who tapped his chin while mentally reviewing the floor-plan he had memorized. Illiterate he may have been, but my friend had an unnatural talent for understanding and memorizing maps and charts and diagrams. After a lengthy pause, he nodded to himself and said, "On this floor? About nine."

Toph sighed. "And on the next?"

"About…oh…another twenty or so."

Toph groaned, while Katara leaned her head on my shoulder and said, in a calmly resigned tone, "And that's not counting the offices."

Sokka shook his head. "No, that counts the offices."

I chuckle. "Well, thank the gods for small miracles, I suppose."

"If you don't mind my asking," Lobsang began in an apologetic tone, "what is your plan after this? If this search proves fruitless."

"Honestly," I reply, wrapping my arms around Katara as she shifts herself so that she's in between my outstretched legs, back to my chest, my chin resting on her shoulder, "I haven't the faintest idea." I give Katara a squeeze. "Any thoughts, babe?"

She shakes her head. "Not a one. What about you guys?"

Toph shrugs and leans back against a wall. "Hey, you're the idea people here, I'm just the muscle."

Sokka smiled. "Hey, I thought I was the muscle."

"Maybe," Toph says, throwing him a grin, "but you're more _a_ muscle, while I'm _the_ muscle."

Sokka shrugs at that. "Fair enough. But you have to admit, if I've got a sword or a spear, your ass is toast."

Toph scoffs. "I admit nothing, and besides, just you wait, I'm going to figure out how to bend metal, and then your ass will be _toast._"

Lobsang leans forward, pointing the stem of his pipe at Toph. "That's actually something I've always wanted to ask. Can one, in fact, bend metal?"

Toph shrugs. "In theory, yes. The idea is that metal is little more than refined earth, so therefore, one _should_ be able to bend it. In practice?" She gives another shrug, picks up a random rock and tosses it out the open doorway across from her. "Either no one's figured it out yet, or the person who did isn't talking."

"What's the problem?" Sokka asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well," Toph says, smiling, "it's all rather complicated…"

"And," I cut in, "no doubt very interesting, but we _do_ have shit to do, guys…"

Katara gives me a sharp poke in the ribs with her elbow. "Hush, Zuko, let them have their fun."

I huff. "But, babe…"

She clucks her tongue. "Don't _babe_ me, just relax."

Sokka jabs a finger at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. "How's it feel now, motherfucker!"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, bite me…"

It's at least another hour until we finally hit pay-dirt, and, characteristically, it's Sokka who finds what we need. We're not in the room for very long before we realize that we've finally found the one we're looking for. There's a picture still tacked to the wall, obviously drawn by a child, of an old, smiling monk with a ridiculous-looking mustache and a kind face and a few words written in a childish scrawl across the bottom. According to Lobsang, it reads, _To Gyatso, my best friend, love, Aang._ I doubt I'm alone in feeling the urge to dance a jig. The excitement in the room is palpable as we begin tearing it apart, pouring through drawers, leafing through the books on the shelves, just in general acting like kids in a candy store on our birthdays. I'm on my stomach under the bed, a small flame in one hand while the other frantically gropes about, when Sokka turns to Toph and says, "You know what I just thought?"

"That you should learn how to wash your own socks?" Katara offers.

Sokka scoffs. "One, sock-washing is not a warrior's duty."

"Zuko washes his own socks," his sister points out.

"Yeah, well, he's weird, we all know this."

"You would be the authority on weird," Toph comments.

"You're one to talk," Sokka replies, beginning to sound annoyed.

"Which is why you should listen to me. I know what I'm talking about."

Toph sounds so outrageously smug that I can't help but laugh, even though I know the act has drawn a glare from Sokka that I can't see.

"Yeah," he says, "_whatever_, my second point was to going to be to say that, no, that's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was that…well…if this guy got put in charge of the Avatar, then he was probably a pretty smart cookie."

"One can only hope," Katara says. "Go on." I don't have to see the patronizing hand wave she uses with this statement to know it's there.

"Right," Sokka says, "so, like I was saying, he's a smart guy. Now, Zuko, you said that the attacks on the temples were pretty hard-fought battles, right?"

"From what I read," I reply, my voice echoing in the cavern my head is currently stuck in.

"Exactly. So, everyone knows that something's up, and shit's about to go down, and the Fire Nation either has already hit the Western Air Temple, or at the very least, they're on their way, and I doubt anyone thought they were up to any good."

"Massive fleets of armed men typically aren't," Katara observes.

"Which we already know," Toph says. "So, what's your point, Snoozles?"

I can feel the eye roll from across the room and under the bed. "I'm getting to that, _if you guys would let me finish._ Point is, this smart guy knows shit's about to hit the fan, so, if he _did_ leave something behind on this Aang kid, then he would've stashed it somewhere."

"But," Katara replies, no doubt chewing lightly on her lip, a mental image that does nothing to aid my concentration, "wouldn't he just destroy whatever he had?"

"Not if," Lobsang says from the doorway, where, during our searches, he typically chills, puffing on his pipe and enjoying the show we put on, "he assumed that friends would someday come looking for his charge, and need to find a way to follow his trail."

"So," I say, sliding out from under the bed and rolling onto my back, "what you're saying is, if the stuff is here, it's hidden."

"Exactly," Sokka says, "only hidden in a place that soldiers wouldn't think to look."

"And what," Toph cuts in, "does that even _mean?_ No offense, but it sounds like classic _Sokka Gibberish_ to me."

Sokka shrugs. "I'm not entirely convinced that it isn't. Point is, it's an idea."

"In which case," Katara says, looking around the room with new eyes, "where is the last place a soldier would look?"

Sokka gives another shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm a warrior, not a soldier. There's a difference."

Katara turns to me. "Any ideas, babe? You're the closest we have to a soldier here."

"Which is a sad state of fucking affairs, if you think about it," Toph points out, easily dodging the upside-the-head smack that Katara throws her way. "Hey, I'm just being honest."

"Yeah," Katara says, "but it's still not nice."

"She does have a point, though," I offer. "Still, so do you. Now," I say, gazing at the room, doing my best to think like the soldier my tutors tried to make me, "if I was one of those men, storming through here after a hard fight-"

"Possibly in the middle of one," Sokka offers.

"Right, possibly in the middle of one, I'm in a hurry, I'm assuming that we're just going to get the information out of any prisoners, anyways, so…" I stand, start walking around. "I'm going to be looking for safes, secret drawers, hidden compartments, something slipped inside the bed mattress…"

Toph wiggles her toes on the floor. "Well, I can tell you right now, there aren't any secret compartments in the floor or in the walls."

"What about," Lobsang muses, tapping the stem of his pipe on his bottom teeth, "in his pupil's desk?"

We stop, blink at each other a few times, then round on the little work table tucked neatly in a corner of the room. We stare at it for a few seconds, then, soundlessly, without saying a word, converge on it all at once.

Like I said, Sokka led us here, so it was only appropriate that he found the prize.

It was a small diary, simply bound, the pages yellowed and crinkled with age. Some of the pages stuck together, it was obvious that some had fallen out and joined the chaos in the drawer that we found it in. Still, somehow, I can't quite explain it, none of us could, we knew instantly, the moment we saw Sokka hold it up before our eyes, that this was it. _This was what we were looking for._ Our hearts beat wildly in our chests as Sokka took it over to Lobsang, who flipped through a few of the pages before nodding and smiling and saying, "I think, my friends, that this just might be what we've been seeking these past few weeks."

We almost cheer, we really do. The only reason we don't is because we're a strange combination of too nervous and too excited to do anything more than begin to vibrate a little.

We take the diary outside, arranging ourselves on the ground in a rough semi-circle centered on Lobsang. Even Toph puts a clamp on the sarcasm, as we lean in, listening to Lobsang read us selections from the diary, flipping to-and-fro, our hearts in our throats and our chests tingling with anticipation.

When Lobsang gets to the end, I honestly don't know whether to laugh or cry.

I know it's important when he stops, his eyes going wide, and looks up, an incredulous look on his face. He looks back down at the book, re-reads whatever he just read, looks back up, then down, then up again. His eyes seem to glisten in the warm afternoon light, and if we had seats, we'd be on the edges of them.

We don't push him. We just wait.

"It seems," he says, finally, his voice shaking, thick with emotion, "that the boy named Aang, the Avatar, was not here on the day of the attack."

Silence falls like a thunderclap. We lean back in unison, as if we've all just been punched in the face. But still, we don't speak. We continue to wait.

Lobsang continues. "When…excuse me, this is…I don't know what to think…ahem, normally, an Avatar is not told they're the Avatar until they're about sixteen or so. But, considering the times that they were living in, the elders of the temple decided that it would there was no time to waste, and so told the boy, over Gyatso's objections, the truth of who he was on his fourteenth birthday. At the same time, they told him that he would be leaving the temple in a few weeks, to go to an undisclosed location to begin his training in the other elements." He takes a deep, quivering breath, lets it out. "It seems that the boy…well…he didn't take it well."

"How do you mean?" Toph asks, her voice a whisper.

Lobsang sighs, his face long and grave. In all the time I've spent with him, I've never seen him look so…well…_old._ The effect is, I'm sad to say, startling, and not a little bit unsettling.

"He…_he ran away._ He stole one of the temple's air bison and, in the dead of the night, ran away."

"That's…that's…" I struggle for words, but they keep catching in my throat, slipping and sliding away from me, trickling through my fingers like water. I grasp at them, but they float away. _I don't even…__**what?!**_

Katara recovers faster. "What the fuck?"

Lobsang shakes his head, his expression turning from serious to sad. "Though I wouldn't use those exact words, that statement does describe my own thoughts rather accurately."

"Good," Toph says, "because I'm thinking of a lot more fucked up ways to put it."

Lobsang bows his head to her. "And I'm afraid I would have to continue agreeing with you. I…" He pauses. His mouth works a few times, open and closed, before he finally just lets out a long breath and says, "I just don't know what to make of this."

"So," Sokka says, redness seeping in this face, a cold fury blazing to life in his eyes, "let me get this straight, in case I'm not following. This kid, he knows he's the Avatar, he knows shit's about to get crazy, he knows the world needs him, and he just…he just…_he just fucking runs away?!_"

Lobsang nods. "As loathe as I am to judge another human being, I can't think of another way to put it."

"That…that…_that's the most fucked up fucking thing I've ever heard._"

"Sokka," Katara says, in a tone that says that she knows _exactly_ how he feels, "come on, the kid was, what, fourteen? You can't blame him."

Sokka bolts to his feet at that, body quivering with anger. "No, fuck that. You remember what happened when _I_ was fourteen? I was leading whale hunts, because I was the chief's son and that was my duty." He points at Toph. "She was running away from home and fighting to build her own life." He points at me. "He was working himself half to death because it was his duty to prepare to be the best leader his people could possibly hope for." He points a final finger at his sister. "And you? Let's not forget that when you were fourteen, _you were delivering fucking babies and leading waterbending classes._" He turns to face the heavens, his face twisted with rage. "So don't anyone here even _dare_ to give me some, _The kid was only a kid, what do you expect?!_ Because you know what I have to say to that? _Fuck. That. Noise._" And with that, he storms off, cursing all the way.

I don't say anything, because I feel exactly the same way. It's hard not to. For the first time, I have real doubts about my mission. There, in the silence that follows Sokka's departure, we all clasp our eyes to the ground, the same thought in all of our minds.

_What if, when we find the Avatar, we discover that he's the wrong man for the job?_

_ What if, when we find the Avatar, we end up wishing we hadn't?_

The idea makes me want to throw my hands in the air and storm off with my friend. I look in Toph's eyes, in Katara's, and see that they both feel exactly the same way.

_Even Lobsang looks a bit disheartened…_

"So," Katara says, shaking her head, trying to compose herself, "did Gyatso have any idea where he might have went?"

Lobsang nods, closing the book and setting it down. "It appears that the boy had made some good friends among the Inupiat tribe in the South, including a girl the boy was sweet on. Gyatso was preparing to seek him out when the attack came. That," he says, his voice thick with finality, "was the last thing he wrote, along with an apology to the world for not going after the boy sooner."

A few beats follow, before Toph turns to Katara and says, "The Inupiat tribe?"

Katara nods. "It's one of the larger, wealthier tribes, or, at least, it was back then. It's main village is a few days' travel down the coast from ours."

"Well then." I stand up, brushing the dirt from my trousers. "It appears that we have our marching orders, then. As soon as the ship comes back, we head for home, and then hoof it over to the Inupiat tribe."

"Do you really think he's still alive?" Toph asks, sounding uncomfortably like a lost child.

I can only shrug and shake my head. "I haven't the faintest idea. If he is, he's far too old to help us, but if he isn't, then hopefully someone there will be able to tell us when he died."

"Either that," Katara continues, standing and wrapping her arms around my waist, laying her head on my chest, "or maybe someone will remember something about where he went."

"In other words," Toph says, voice dripping with scorn, "we just have to hope there's hundred-some-odd-year-old grump who remembers chasing that weird Air Nomad kid off his front lawn."

Lobsang smiles. "That is a remarkably descriptive way of putting it."

Toph sighs. She doesn't sound like she has the strength to scoff. "Yeah, a real fucking wordsmith, that's what I am."

Lobsang opens his mouth to say something, but he never gets to. Sokka had disappeared around a corner, fuming and cursing, but now, suddenly, he reappears, skidding back around the corner, a terrified look on his face. For a split second, all my worst fears come true. For a split second, I know, _I feel it in my bones_, that this is the end. My father has finally come for me, and my brief period of trying to make a real difference in the world is about to come to a crashing halt.

Then I see one my crewmembers dashing behind him, struggling to keep up, the same look of fear on his face, and I know it's much, much worse.

The ship has come back early. The ship is in a hurry. There's only one thing that can possibly mean.

_The war is nowhere near over…_

Katara sees the same thing I do. She burrows deeper into my body, or maybe I'm the one burrowing into her, I don't know. We hold each other, there in the late afternoon light, and wait for one more answer we don't want to hear.

* * *

Phew! That was a bit of an information dump, eh?! But I hope I did it a bit better than I handled the last one. I try to dump information in dialogue, because you guys dig my dialogue, and it makes it easier to read. Also, it gives Toph a chance to be Toph.

In show, any time someone gets pissy at Aang for dropping the ball the way he did is instantly portrayed as some kind of asshole. I don't like this. Aang, you see, _really fucked up_, and my biggest problem with the show is that he's never really forced to deal with this. I think we can all agree with that. I mean, he gets a few moments where he looks a bit guilty, but as for actually _owning up_ to what he did? Not really.

I believe in making Aang get called out, in making him deal with it. Why? Because I think Aang has great potential as a character. He really does have a good heart, a good soul, and a sincere desire to do the right thing, for the right reasons, in the right way. Those are qualities you want in an Avatar, you know? But he also needs to grow up, and growing up means dealing with your bullshit and owning up to your mistakes.

Which is a lot to say about a character whose name just _now_ popped up in the narrative, but whatever. _I like to set shit up._

I also like foreshadowing. Don't you? Which leads me to…

In the next chapter, the Southern Water Tribes prepare for war (_what, you thought this was going to be __**all**__ fluff?_), and Zuko has to give a speech. Stay tuned!


	38. Chapter 38

38. THE MEETING HALL IS PACKED TO OVER-FLOWING, PRACTICALLY STANDING ROOM ONLY. The air is thick and stuffy, hazy with the smoke from furiously smoked pipes and cigarettes, rank with the stench of sweat and the sting of fear. The hall is deafening in its silence. No one mutters, no one sneezes, no one coughs, no one so much as clears their throat. The representatives of nearly every Southern Water Tribe are crammed into this space, until it feels like, at any moment, the walls were burst and shatter. Into a space made for three-hundred or so, almost twice that have been stuff in. Nearly twelve-hundred pairs of eyes…

_And every single one of those eyes is fixed on me…_

Never in my life have I wanted to curl up and melt into the ground as much as I do at that moment. I hate being stared at, being the center of attention, fucking _hate it._ But I endure it. I endure it because it's important, because it's my duty, because I have to, because my uncle stands ramrod straight, at perfect attention, beside me, and because…well…

_Because the most beautiful woman in the world stands right behind her father's left shoulder, eyes fixed on me, one hand clutching desperately at her necklace, beaming her strength into me…_

I take a deep breath, let it out.

_I can do this…_

_ I'm not worthless…_

_ I'm not nothing…_

_ I'm not a coward…_

_**I have a voice…**_

It's been almost a month since we left the Southern Air Temple. It's taken at least that long to get back to the South, brief Hakoda, and gather the chiefs of all the tribes. It's time we don't have, time we can't afford to waste, but it can't be helped. At the end of the day, the force that all must bow to is time. My crew nearly broke the ship, getting it back to the South, and yet, time still slipped by us, scrapping across the world around us like a knife being scrapped across a stone.

_Two months…_

_**We have two months…**_

The shaman is finishing his prayers and blessings. Only the most important occasions require such ceremony; normally, the Southern Water Tribes ignore such wastes of time. And yet, Hakoda still insists we all sit in silence through the rituals, through the sacrifice. It is a sign, a signal to all in attendance.

_Pay attention…_

_ This is life and death we speak of…_

Silence falls after the shaman speaks his final words, silence like rocks pelting the outside of an empty bucket. Into the silence steps Hakoda. Never have I seen him look more regal. He is in his full chief's regalia, a headdress shaped like a wolf's head serving as a crown, a sword at his waist, a spear clasped in his hand. He stands, as big and as solid as a boulder. When he speaks, his voice rumbles and roars like the ocean at dawn.

"Brothers, sisters, I welcome you, and offer apologies that we could not gather under better circumstances. Some of you know why we're here today, but few of you know all of the details. That is why you will not hear it from me, but from the two men standing before you. Before they speak, though, I would like to say a few words." His eyes pass over the assembly, going the full circuit around one side and back again. When he speaks again, his voice is harsh and cold.

I don't really listen to the story he tells. It's nothing personal; I've just heard it too many times before, and, to be perfectly honest, I'm tired of it. The person I was is gone, dead, tossed into the sea like so much trash. If I met that angry, confused boy on the street, I wouldn't recognize him, and even if I did, I'd have nothing to say. He was alright, in his own way, but he wasn't _me._ He was part of a world I no longer miss, lived a life I no longer understand. Courts and etiquette no longer interest me; politics no longer interest me; _power no longer interests me._

_My name is Zuko, and I'm just a guy who wants to do the right thing…_

Hakoda reaches the end of his speech. He has paused, taken a deep breath. For a mere fraction of a second, a smile flits across his face. It's gone, long before I'm really even aware that it was there, and yet, somehow…_I know it was for me._

I don't smile back. It's not necessary.

"I've told you all this for one simple reason: Because I want you to listen to what these men have to say, and hear them, and trust them, and know that they are not our enemies. These men are our friends, our allies, our comrades. If we are defeated in the coming battle, the worst that will happen to us is imprisonment, maybe occupation, definitely humiliation. But for them? There will be only cruel, unnatural death, their heads mounted on pikes on their capital city's walls. And to drive that home, I'm going to ask a question."

He fixes his eyes on me. I look right back.

"Zuko, how did you get that scar?"

I take a deep breath. I let it out. My eyes flit to Katara, only for a second, just long enough to replenish my strength, and then I speak.

"My father gave it to me."

When my uncle and I were first ushered into the meeting hall, it was hard to ignore the heavy mist of thinly veiled hostility that hung in the air. Many of these people had fought in the war, fought and suffered, bore countless scars and injuries, lost friends, brothers, fathers, sons. Even those who stayed at home were not safe; the horrors inflicted upon them by my grandfather's absurd campaign against waterbending are too legion to be recounted anywhere a sane human being would be in danger of hearing them. So, when my uncle and I were brought in, dressed in full armor, flashing scarlet and black in the dancing torchlight, polished helmets cradled in the crooks of our arms, our hair carefully tied into perfect topknots, yes, there was hate. There was hate, anger, loathing, on more faces than I cared to count. I didn't blame them, and I never will. There before them stood, unhindered, two proud sons of the Fire Nation.

_Because that's what we are…_

_ Proud sons of what we wish the Fire Nation to be…_

But that wall of hatred is wavering now. In the Southern Water Tribes, no crime is considered more heinous than hurting a child, even if they deserve it. To do what my father did to me is a crime that their minds can barely comprehend.

Hakoda bows his head. "And who, young Zuko, was your father?"

I answer without hesitation.

"Fire Lord Ozai."

The murmur that sweeps through the assembly is confused, torn, and, to my surprise, not a little bit sympathetic. I can feel them looking at me with new eyes now, new eyes and new minds. They are looking past the armor, the topknots, the strange, otherworldly bearing. They are looking beyond the (to their eyes) stilted bows and odd accents. They look to me, then to Hakoda, to Sokka, to Katara, _especially to Katara_, and then back to me, and they see…

_They see me…_

_ There, in that moment, I finally find what I've always wanted…_

_ Acceptances…_

One man stands, about the same age as Hakoda, and just as solid-looking. He gives me a hesitant smile, asks, in voice whose kindness throws me off-guard, "Might I ask you a question, young man?"

I bow my head. "Of course, sir."

"Well…does that mean you're the heir to the throne?"

I shake my head. "Not anymore, sir. My right to the succession was stripped from me when I was banished. If I went home now, I would be killed on sight."

The man nods, his face grave and drawn, and says, "Thank you for your frankness." He turns to Hakoda and smiles. "Well, if that's all, I think we'd all like to hear what the young man has to say."

Hakoda nods back. "I agree." My questioner resumes his seat, while Hakoda turns back to me. "Zuko, you may begin. Tell them exactly what you told me, and leave nothing out. And remember," he says one more time, voice booming, "these men are our friends. _My friends._ If any of you insult them, you insult _me._" He jabs a thumb to his chest, eyes blazing, daring any to challenge him.

_No one does…_

_ You know, father, this barbarian has __**forgotten**__ more about being a king than you will ever know…_

Somehow, that thought gives me a great deal of peace.

I clear my throat. Katara and I have spent long hours, deep into the night, practicing what I have to say, what I'm going to say. Even then, sweat rolls down my spine. I feel nauseous, light-headed, sick to my stomach. I want to cry, to run away, to throw up, anything but reveal to strangers the worst thing that ever happened to me. _Anything at all…_

And I would, too, but she's there, and she's smiling at me, and she nods, and I nod back, and in that moment, I know I can do it.

As I speak, my voice doesn't crack. It doesn't shake and it doesn't quiver. It is, my friends will later tell me, _the voice of a prince_. Toph (who is currently perched on one of the rafters, watching and listening, Katara and Sokka having snuck her in) will later slap me on the back and say, _See, __**that's**__ what I expected the Emperor to sound like._

I really don't know what they heard. When I spoke, I just heard me.

I begin with a brief overview of the tale up until our last day at the Southern Air Temple. I tell them about how my friends and I began a quest to finally solve the mystery of the Avatar, beginning at the temple, while my ship and my crew returned to the Fire Nation to begin the process of bringing to the South those members of their families who wished to come. They were only a week or so into this when one of those same family members, desperate to save a young son from the draft, brought the news that caused my crew to up-anchor and nearly tear the ship apart trying to get back to me.

I pause, letting silence and apprehension grow. In my mind's eye, I see my rhetoric tutor, swatting me on the knuckles with a switch every time I _umm'ed _or _uhh'ed_ during a recitation, how he praised my sister's skills to the sky, the way she did everything _naturally_, and why couldn't I be more like her, _where was my sense of drama?_

_I had to go chill with the barbarians to find it. Who knew?_

"I presume, ladies and gentlemen, that you all know of Sozin's Comet."

The rumble of hushed voices tells me that they do. I let the noise swell, before Hakoda silences it with a gesture and motions for me to carry on.

"Every hundred years, Sozin's Comet, which used to just be called _the Fire Comet_, passes by our world, and with it, brings immeasurable amounts of power to every firebender in the world. Once upon a time, this event was primarily known for the civil disorders it caused among overpowered firebenders in the Fire Nation. A hundred years ago, though, it's power was used to my great-grandfather, Fire Lord Sozin, to break the back of the Air Nomads and launch a devastating attack on the Earth Kingdom. The world has yet to recover from what happened that day."

I pause once more, nod to my uncle, who motions at two members of my crew standing by the door, carrying between them a big, heavy map. My uncle and I step to the side, while my men (Nakamura, a gentle soul who likes to draw and still cries some nights over his one year in the war, and Masami, a quiet man who sings like a god and was once forced to watch his little brother executed for refusing to participate in a doomed assault) roll out the map. It's a real work of art, painted on several thick animal hides scraped clean and stitched together, showing in detail the area between the southern Fire Nation and the northern coast of the Southern Water Tribes. I spare a moment to throw a wink at Sokka, who is beaming with pride. It was his pet project. I have no idea how he managed to throw it together in about a week.

I walk onto the map, handing Nakamura my helmet and taking in exchange a long, thin stick. I tap it on the port of Kagoshima, the largest port on my homeland's southern coast.

"In about six weeks, a massive fleet will leave this port and make for our northern shores." Funny thing…I didn't even notice that I kept referring to matters pertaining to the Water Tribes with words such as _we_ or _our_. It was Katara who pointed it out to me. I didn't think about it at the time; I just…well…_did it._ "This fleet will head straight here, arriving on the Day of the Comet." I move over to the spot on the map that marks the northern coast. "I assume," I say, tapping the spot softly with the stick, "that you all know what that means."

Silence falls. You could've heard a pin drop. Nothing needs to be said. We all know what this means.

_Death…_

_ Fire…_

_ Blood…_

_**Defeat…**_

One of the chiefs stands, a new one, a man I don't know. His body almost shakes, no doubt with the same combination of terror and rage that I myself feel, if not more.

"But…I'm sorry, young man, but I don't understand. _Why?_ Why is your father doing this? We've asked for terms, haven't we?"

All I can do is shrug and shake my head. "I don't understand, either. Maybe you didn't ask for terms in the exact tone my father wanted to hear. Maybe he would prefer it if you had, every single one of you, gone on hands and knees and begged for terms. Maybe he doesn't like it that, especially while Chief Hakoda was leading your army and your navy, you were never defeated in battle. Maybe he just wants to make an example of you." I sigh, let my voice lighten up a bit. "Maybe he just didn't drink enough tea the day this plan was presented to him."

This sends a nervous chuckle through the hall, while up above, I hear Toph's laugh crack out before it's cut off by what I presume is her own hand over her own mouth, for which I make a mental note to thank her for later.

"The point is," I continue, hardening my voice once more, "that my father thinks to repeat his grandfather's so-called _masterstroke._ He wants you broken and defeated, so that you will never even _think_ to rise again."

A voice calls out a question. "How many ships?"

"I don't know, but at least two-hundred, if not more."

"How many men?" Another voice, another question.

"Again, I can't be sure, but two-hundred ships would easily be able to carry anywhere from twenty-five-to-thirty-thousand troops."

A collective gasp, a collective whisper, a collective mutter. Then, another question.

"Do we know who's in command?"

At this, I have to grit my teeth. It takes a lot to maintain my composure. The name I'm about to have to say is enough to make me want to burn a whole in the nearest person, regardless of who they are or what they've done. It is a name whispered with hate and fear across the entire world.

_And, well, I have a bone to pick with him, too…_

"From what my crew was able to learn, the attack will be commanded by Admiral Zhao."

The sheer visceral loathing that bursts out is almost tangible, and actual living, breathing thing, with a body and a mind and a soul black as night. The name is whispered back and forth, echoing among the rafters.

_Zhao the Butcher…_

_ Zhao the Demon…_

_**Zhao…**_

"So," another voice calls out, "is there anything we can do? Anything but surrender and hope for mercy?"

I nod. "We can fight. If we fight both smart _and_ hard, we can at least turn the attack back, make it _bleed_. At that point, my father will hopefully decide that we're not worth the trouble, and allow us to come to terms."

"And how," yet one more voice asks, "can we do _that?_"

I turn to Sokka, bow, and say, "For that, I pass the floor to my good friend, Sokka, since what follows is his plan."

Sokka turns to his father, who beams with pride and waves him to the floor. Before he steps down to the map to join me, he gets pulled in for a quick peck on the cheek from his sister, and then, as he steps out onto the floor, a voice calls from overhead, _"Knock those fuckers dead, Snoozles!_"

We both take a moment to roll our eyes, before I hand my stick to Sokka (which makes sense; _it's his stick_) and we give each other a little exchange of bows. I step over to join my uncle, while Sokka launches into his spiel.

To tell the truth, I think that anyone who says that they'd rather watch me give a speech over Sokka is a fucking liar. I speak like a prince, which is exactly my problem. Sokka? He speaks like a _dude._ He's one of you. He's just as nervous and terrified as I would be, but he has a different way of hiding it. He's loose, his body relaxed, moving around, smiling even when he's being serious, his voice firm but light, and there's always a stupid joke somewhere in there. And yet, despite that, everyone takes him seriously when he needs them to.

_Of course, that's Sokka. I love him even when I hate him._

"First off," he says, "I think we need a cheer for my buddy Zuko, him and his uncle and his crew, because without them, we'd be pretty screwed right now. What do you guys say?"

The cheer that followed was deafening in its enthusiasm, a release of tension, an escape valve, as they give me and my boys that cheer and clap and just in general shake themselves loose a bit. That done, Sokka turns back to me, still smiling, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and says, "Now, buddy, I gotta ask you a few questions."

I bow my head. "Of course."

"So, how long does the comet hang around?"

"From what I've read, about a week or so. There's about a day-long period during which it comes just right overhead, and that's when its effect is the most powerful, but in the three or four days leading up to that, firebenders will feel a gradual swelling of strength."

"But the full power is only on that one day, right?"

"Correct."

"Right on." He turns away, begins walking a slow, lazy circle, addressing the crowd. "Now, Zuko's idiot prick of a dad has this crazy idea that he can just time shit so that we have to fight him, at a disadvantage, our armies and our fleets scattered hither and yon, on the worst possible day to ever fight a firebender." He leans forward, and asks, in a conspiratorial tone, "But we're not that stupid, are we?"

The assembly answers, very strongly, in the negative.

"I didn't think so!" He strides over to the spot on the map where Patola rests, puts one foot on it, then reaches over and taps Kagoshima with the stick. "If the fleet leaves from Kagoshima, it would be natural for it to pass by Patola, where the Southern Air Temple is. Not just that, but it would make sense that _that's_ where the fleet will start to split up, so it can hit our entire northern coast. If our estimations are correct, they should pass Patola about eight weeks from now."

"And how long is that before the comet?" someone asks.

Sokka does some mental math, then turns to me. "I suck at math, dude. What's the answer?"

The assembly chuckles, while I answer, "About two weeks or so."

"Word." Sokka turns back to the crowd. "Which also means that it'll be about two weeks from that point on until Zuko's twenty-third birthday. So, you know, there's that. I was going to get him a gift, but he already got my sister, so, you know, I think we're even."

Another chuckle, another moment of release. Even Katara giggles a bit.

"So," a voice asks, "what're you saying? Why does Patola matter?"

"Simple," Sokka says, the smile on his face turning hungry, ravenous, almost wolf-like.

_"That's the day we're going to hit them."_

A stunned silence passed, and then, breaking upon us like a wave in a storm, applause, applause and furious clapping and cheering and just…just…

_ Hope…_

I couldn't help but smile.

_This…_

_**This just might work…**_

* * *

Hey, look! Plot! Fancy that! Haha. But no, seriously, you guys didn't think this was going to be _all_ fluff, did you? No! There's going to be character development, and storyline, and a big fucking battle, and, at some point, an answer to the riddle of the Avatar.

Oh, and, I'm sad to say, a bit of blood. There _is_ a war to wrap up, after all.

By the way, what's Ozai's thinking here? Simple: He's a child, a child who's pissy because he never got to play with the toys his forefathers did. _Sozin_ got to attempt a genocide, why shouldn't Ozai? So, yeah, he's basically going to pull out _the exact same plan_, throw in a touch of his own personal brand of crazy, and hurl it at the Southern Water Tribes. Because, after all, they're just savage, stupid barbarians, right? What's the _worst_ they could do?

Which is also why Ozai is not leading the assault himself. Why should he? It's just the Southern Water Tribes. It's not like he setting out to burn the great and mighty Earth Kingdom or anything, you know? Even the Northern Water Tribes would warrant more of a personal touch.

Also, here's a question that I honestly don't know the answer to: Does Ozai know Zuko's in the South? I really don't know. I'm of multiple minds about it. I have a feeling Azula knows, that Azula, for whatever reason, makes it her business to know where her brother is. But Ozai? I just can't imagine him giving a shit. Or maybe I'm wrong? There, that's a prompt for you guys. Azula and Ozai are discussing the attack and Azula's all, "Hey, this is great, because Zu-Zu is down there," and Ozai's all, "Huh? Who cares?"

Or something. You guys run with it.

In the next chapter, Zuko and Katara dress for battle, Zuko gives a final speech to his crew, and we have a moment of feels. Stay tuned!


	39. Chapter 39

39. THE SUN HANGS HIGH IN THE SKY, A BLAZING GLOBE OF RED AND ORANGE AND FIRE. Summer is here, warm and fierce. According to the books, the summers of the comet are always unusually hot. Even here, in the South, we feel it. Sweat trickles down my back. Heat pulses from the deck. My heart beats an unsteady rhythm in my chest. My body feels small, tight, like too little skin stretched over too many bones. Somehow, my hand doesn't shake. The _sake_ cup is level, the liquid inside still. I don't know how I'm managing to pull that off. I don't want to know. I'm afraid that if I think about it too hard, I won't be able to carry on.

There, on the deck of my ship, I stand before fifty-two men, the entire crew and my uncle. All their eyes are locked on me. All of us are kitted out in full armor, swords are our waists, prepared for war. Only our helmets are missing. Instead, around each brow, a thick, white cloth is tied. In the middle of each cloth is a bright red sun. In the white spaces around the sun, words are written. Some men have written their own names, or those of their friends, beloved family, long lost loves. On my uncle's brow is written both his wife's name and his son's name.

_On mine is written Ursa…_

My ship is silent, but the world is not. All around us, the Southern Water Tribes prepare for war. It's been an amazing effort, nothing short of a miracle. In five weeks, the people of the South have managed to marshal, assemble, and brief their full, complete military might, which has never, not once, in their long history, been wielded at one time in one place before. Over one-hundred-and-fifty warships, over twenty-thousand warriors, many of them veterans, more waterbenders than any of us ever expected to still exist. None of us, not even the Water Tribes themselves, expected such a turnout, such a show of strength, of unity.

_I'd be lying if I tried to say it wasn't moving, deep down in the depths of the soul I never even knew I had, five years ago…_

_And that's not even getting into what my boys accomplished…_

When my uncle and I obtained the ship, it had been decommissioned, an old warship that had been serving as a merchant vessel for over a decade. My uncle assembled a crew, and they spent several months turning it back into a warship. Then, years later, together, we spent the winter just past turning it back into a merchant vessel, only to ultimately spend the last five weeks turning it back into a warship. And, oddly enough, it looked better than ever.

_Under different circumstances, it'd be kind of funny…_

_ Okay…maybe it was still a bit amusing…_

I resist the urge to laugh, to share one last, final chuckle, just with myself, in the quiet before the darkness.

_Miracles…_

_ Miracles everywhere I look…_

_ Thank you, father…_

_**Thank you for sending me away…**_

I clear my throat. I open my mouth. I speak. They listen.

"Gentlemen, nearly five years ago, five years this fall, my uncle brought you to a broken-down, damn near derelict ship, which didn't even have locks on most of the doors, _thought I can't imagine why._"

I give my uncle a kind-hearted glare, to which he responds by beaming innocently while the crew chuckles. I let the chuckle die down, then carry on.

"Each of you came for your own reasons. Some of you came because of trouble you had gotten into. Others, came because you were looking for adventure. Others _still_, came because the path your nation was heading down made you sick, and you no longer wanted any part of it. There were even a few of you who had served under my uncle in his younger, slimmer days, and were curious as to just how fat he had gotten over the years. And, well, let's not forget," I turn my eyes on Uchimura, my navigation officer, Uchimura, reputed to be the most handsome man in the Fire Nation, Uchimura, he of the thousand lines and unbroken track record, Uchimura, whose back was covered in scars from the fire whip that had punished him for disputing with a superior officer over what was the best course to take, Uchimura, who grins up at me, laughter in his eyes, just like always, "the one member of our company who, I'm pretty sure, only came along because every girl in the Fire Nation was wise to his tricks."

More laughter, soft and low, and a few pats on Uchimura's back while he merely shrugs and mutters something no doubt extremely witty and appropriate. I let them have their fun, clear my throat, and continue.

"I never had a choice. My destiny had been laid out for me, the day I dared to think I had a right to use the brain I'd been given. _But you did._ You have always had a choice. From the beginning, right up until now, _you have had a choice_, and you will _continue to have a choice_." I raise my free hand, wave it across the sky. "Here is your chance. I will ask no man to follow me. Not only that, but I am not my father. _I will force no man to follow me._ Every single one of you is free to go, no questions asked, no judgments made. If you want your life, take it now."

No one moves.

No one breathes.

_No one so much as flinches._

I close my eyes. I breathe deep, taste the salt of the sea on my lips, inhale the strange scent of the ocean, feel the noise and clatter of an army preparing to sail penetrate down to my very bones. I open my eyes.

_They're all here._

_ Thank you…_

"Gentlemen, I thank you. I do not deserve your loyalty, or your trust, or, if I might be so bold, _your fellowship_. We stopped be _just a crew_ a long time ago. We are a family now. And you, gentlemen, are the only family I have, and the only family I've ever wanted." I raise my cup high. The _sake_ quivers within. Fifty-two cups rise as one, and stab at the sky.

"Gentlemen, countrymen, _friends_, it's been an honor. To you."

The chorus comes, soft and low.

_"To us."_

We drink. The _sake_ is the finest on the ship, a bottle that has traveled with us for five years, saved for the day we would finally return home. No one so much as blinked when Captain Fujita took it out of his private safe. No one said a word while it was poured. We all knew what it meant. _We all know what it means._

The _sake_ slides down my throat, hot and sharp. It burns, cuts, slices, smooth as silk and jagged as sharpened steel. I swallow, and it explodes like a bomb in my stomach.

It is, without a doubt, the best _sake_ I've ever had.

In one smooth motion, we take the shot, raise the empty cups in the air, and hurl them at the deck. Fifty-three cups shatter in an explosion soft as the wind. I don't stop moving. None of us do. My hand goes immediately to my sword. I draw it. Fifty-three swords hiss out of their scabbards. I hurl my arms into the air, stabbing at the sky, elbows straight, my sword a challenge to the very gods to strike me down.

I scream the word. It grates along my throat like a dull knife. My heart stops at the sound. I scream with every fiber of my being. I feel the word down to the very bones of my feet. I've never done this before. I don't think any of us have. We know what to do, though. We've been raised from birth for a moment like this.

For a moment, I wish my father was here, so that, just once, he could see what it means, _truly means_, to be Fire Nation.

_The word…_

_ The word shatters the early morning darkness…_

_ "BANZAI!"_

_ Fifty-two throats scream it back._

_ "BANZAI!"_

_ My arms go down, back up, I scream, even louder._

_**"BANZAI!"**_

_The echo roars._

_**"BANZAI!"**_

_One more time, I slice at the clouds, defy the gods, like generations of my people before me, all the way back into the mists of time…_

_**"**__**BANZAI**__**!"**_

_The echo, oh, the echo, like the end of the world…_

_**"**__**BANZAI**__**!"**_

_We're done…_

_ It's over…_

_**It's just begun…**_

Fifty-three swords slide back home. One man, with a scar on his face, bows, full at the waist. He rises. Fifty-two other men, some of them old enough to be his grandfather, bow back. I gaze out at them. There are tears in my eye, my only good eye, _my only real eye._ My voice catches in my throat. _I don't know what to say._

_ So I come up with something anyways…_

"Boys, thank you. Just…_thank you._" I take a deep breath that does nothing to calm me, but it makes me feel just a little bit better. "Now," I say, smiling, "to your posts. Prepare to depart."

Captain Fujita steps out from the company, turns around to face them, and roars, in his usual bellow, like crushed glass being ground beneath the heel of a boot, "You heard the prince, you sacks of shit! _Get to work!_"

The deck explodes into activity as I make my way over to my uncle. Tears fall freely down his face. Without a word, he throws his arms around me, does his best to crush the life out of me, while I do the same, in an action that shocks even me.

_When did I start doling out __**hugs**__?!_

We pull apart, wiping the tears from our eyes. His lips tremble. I wonder if I look just as bad.

"Zuko?"

I smile.

"Yes, uncle?"

He laughs. "Never forget, no matter what happens, that I'm proud of you. I always have been, and I always will be. I would give anything for you to be my son."

All I can do at that is shake my head and laugh. "But uncle," I say, patting his shoulder, "I _am_ your son, in every way that actually _counts._"

He sighs, wipes more tears from his eyes. "Stop it, boy, you're going to make me bawl like a baby in front of the men." He shakes his head, the biggest, saddest smile I've ever seen on his face. "Now, enough of me." He tilts his head towards the shore. "I believe you had a few more goodbyes to make."

I don't say anything. I just nod, embrace him again, and hurry down the gangplank. There, at the end, I find four people, two men, two women. The men, only older, one my age, are dressed in full Water Tribe armor, excepting only their helmets. The women, too, both young, are dressed in armor, only lighter armor, designed for women, and one of them has special boots that have had the soles cut out. It's the youngest woman, a teenage girl, really, barely seventeen, who rushes over to me, hurls herself in my arms, buries her face in my shoulder as she makes me swing her around and around and around.

Finally, I set her down, take her face in my hands, and plant a big, sloppy kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry," I say, "I love you, too, Toph."

She sniffs, face set and determined, her milky eyes challenging any fool present to accuse her of crying. "Oh, whatever. You just owe me a fucking piggy-back ride, got it?"

I laugh, ruffle her hair. "Don't you worry about me, kid. And I promise, first thing when I get back, we'll find you that big-titted girl with lines like mine."

She punches me hard in the stomach, only my armor protecting me from the blow. "You're gods-damn right you well." She shakes her head, wiping her eyes in a way that makes it look like she's just got some dust in there, honest, _really._ "Now, let's get this shit over with, before I cry from boredom."

I laugh. "Of course." She steps back, and I stride up to Sokka. We stare at each for a moment, before hurling ourselves at one another, slamming armored fists into armored backs hard enough to rattle teeth. We pull apart, nod, smile, ball our hands into fists and tap armored knuckles together.

"Remember," he says, smiling, "I'll be in the ship next to yours, so if you need to pop over for a clean pair of underwear, I've got your back."

"And, when the crew finally tosses you overboard because of your snoring, don't worry, we'll fish you out after only a few minutes of hysterical laughter."

He grins. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

I grin right back. "That makes two of us."

One more round of manly hugs, and then I'm standing before Hakoda.

_Hakoda…_

I bow. He bows back, straightens himself out, reaches out a hand. I take the hand, and we clasp fingers around each other's forearms. We shake once, twice, nod at each other.

"Just so you know," he says, arms still joined, "when we return, the tribal council has decided, by a unanimous vote, to adopt you and your crew into the tribe." He flashes a grin. "How does that sound?"

"Well, sir," I say, enjoying the way his eyes attempt not to roll at the _sir_, "for myself, at least, it would be an honor."

He shakes his head. "The honor, young man, is all mine."

I shake my head right back. "We'll just have to agree to disagree on that, sir."

He laughs at that, and we release each other's forearms. He nods at me, turns to his son, and says, "Come on, Sokka, we better get to the ship."

Sokka looks he's about to say something, until his eyes go wide and he nods slowly and says, "Oh, right, I needed to tell Bato something." He starts to head off, while Hakoda turns to Toph and says, "And as for you, my dear, I believe my mother-in-law needed to talk to you about something."

Toph rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, like I'll believe _that_ bullshit."

A voice, soft and low. "Toph? _Please?_"

Toph scoffs. "Ugh. _Fine._ I've got shit to do anyways." She stomps away, muttering to herself around a smile. Hakoda hangs back for one moment, makes sure she's gone, then gives myself and the one remaining person a nod, and calmly strolls away.

I look to her.

She looks back.

_It's just the two of us…_

_ As it always is…_

I'm not entirely sure who hurls themselves at whom. Am I in her arms? Or is she in mine? _Or maybe, just maybe, we're in each other's…_

_ I suppose it doesn't matter…_

_ So long as we're both here…_

Unshed tears sparkle in the corners of her eyes. I reach up, wipe them away. Her fingers tremble along my face. She dashes away my own tears, brushes fingertips lightly along my scar. She pops up, presses her lips softly to that dead, mangled flesh. My breath catches. She pulls back, wraps her arms around my neck, rests her elbows on my shoulders, while I clasp my own hands behind her waist, pull her close. Her face comes up to meet mine.

_I'll never know what it felt like to witness the birth of the world, but I like to imagine that that kiss came pretty close…_

"So," I whisper, our foreheads pressed together, "for the record, it was totally not my idea for you and Toph to stay behind."

She sighs, and smiles. "I know. We both do. It wasn't even my father's idea, it was the women of the tribe who asked us." She giggles, a light as bright as the sun gleaming from her eyes, all while my heart does a leap. "Apparently, I'm the most respected woman in the tribe. They just didn't feel comfortable following anyone else but me, and everyone feels that Toph will really even the odds, if it gets that far."

I close my eyes, and press my lips to her forehead. "It won't get that far. I promise."

She shakes her head. I look into her eyes. I don't understand what I see there. I know it, I feel it myself, but I don't understand.

_Some things just aren't __**meant**__ to be understood…_

"That's not the promise I want from you."

"What is the promise you from me?"

"That's easy. _I want you to promise to come back._"

I kiss her, soft and deep. "_I promise,_" I whisper into her lips.

She nods, a jerky, uneven motion. "Good, because I'm holding you to that. Don't do anything foolishly heroic or idiotically brave, okay?"

I laugh. "Come on, does that really sound like my style?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're lucky you're cute. What am I going to do with you?"

I smile my cutest, most innocent smile. "Keep me?"

She sighs. "Only if you come back."

I chuckle, and then we kiss again. As usual, I'm not entirely sure who kisses whom.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

And then it's time to go.

* * *

Hey! Two updates in a day! Woo!

Alright, so, a few things to say about this chapter. One, is a fun little thing about the conception. This story actually pretty much grew out of this chapter. I had this idea of Zuko, making this speech to his crew, leading them in a _banzai_ chant, and then him and Katara having a cute moment before he heads off to a battle neither of them are sure he'll come back from. Once I had that little plot bunny in my head, I began to get curious as to how we got there, and then, what follow that. The result, ladies and gentlemen, is _Wild, Wild Love._

For those playing the home game, _banzai_, though it's one of those words that exists in every language that doesn't translate well into others (for fun, ask a Spanish speaker what _simpatico_ means, without using the word _simpatico_, or ask an English-speaker what _fine_ means, while forbidding them to use the words _fine_ or _okay_), basically means _ten-thousand years._ That can be either optimistic or pessimistic (at least, if we're trying to explain it to an outsider, which I am, so forgive me; I did once ask a Japanese person to explain it to me). In the context of, say, a toast, it means, in essence, _ten thousand years of good luck _or _good fortune_ or whatever.

In this context? Basically, Zuko and his crew are expressing their hope that their deeds and actions will live on for ten-thousand years. _Which is why Katara doesn't ask what it means._ In my mind, in her heart, she really doesn't want to know.

Now, at the risk of this note becoming longer than the story, what's with the Southern Water Tribes here? Well, basically, in my mind, the Southern Water Tribes are more a confederation of tribes with a shared culture and language than, say, a united kingdom, like the Northern Water Tribes or the Fire Nation. Over the course of the past century, the tribes have never all gone to war at the same time, or in the same way. Some probably just raid Fire Nation shipping at sea, or conduct raids on the coasts, or things like that, while others, like Hakoda and his tribe, have occasionally actually shipped off to the Earth Kingdom to fight as an army. Point being, being a rather loose confederation (some of which, in my mind, aren't too keen on each other), they've never gathered in one place before, especially not like this. But then again, this is facing extinction; that's when you pull out all the stops.

Also, if anyone things I had them gather too quickly, well…to that, all I have to say is that you'd be amazed at what people can do, when they put their hearts and souls and minds to it.

In the next chapter, there will be blood. Stay tuned!


	40. Chapter 40

40. WE FIND OUR ENEMY EXACTLY WHERE WE EXPECTED THEM, AND EXACTLY _WHEN_ WE EXPECTED TO FIND THEM. Judging from their reaction, the same can't be said for them.

It takes nine days to reach Patola. Nine days of hard, brutal sailing. The waterbenders on the Water Tribe ships work around the clock, pushing the fleet through the seas, making sure we have the best currents. Down in the engine room, Murasaki and Ishikawa work the engines until they sound like they're going to explode. Every firebender on the ship takes turns fanning the flames, and for every shift they take, I take two, while the non-firebenders work in shifts bringing the coal down. We burn coal like there's no tomorrow, because, in many ways, there isn't.

_We run the engines even though we know, at this rate, there's not going to be enough coal to get us back…_

Our enemy has yet to arrive when we reach Patola, and yet, somehow, the locals seem to know something is up. We send parties ashore for provisions, and find nobody at home, only a few hundred young men, volunteering for duty. We take them on, especially the firebenders and the waterbenders. We're going to need all the help we can get.

There, standing amongst the young man, is someone we didn't expect to find. He stands tall and proud, a withered old fire sage missing an eye, his face looking like he'd been lashed across it with a fire whip. He doesn't tell us his name, or his story, and we don't ask. Without a word, he comes onto the ship, and all through the night, he hears our final confessions, one-by-one, never stopping, never sleeping. In the morning, at sunrise, he leads us in services. Every single one of us goes, and even several of the chiefs, including Hakoda, come over to the ship to observe with us.

Even I go. I don't even know if I believe in the gods anymore, in gods or spirits. For most of my life, I have cursed them at least ten times as often as I've praised them, or even admitted they exist. But I go. I bow my head and recite the prayers and it feels like a weight is lifted from my shoulders. With the men we've picked up, we're now sixty strong, including me. Sixty voices, chanting in unison, the incense burning, every one of us wondering if we're the only one with tears in our eyes.

_Agni preserve…_

_ Agni defend…_

_ Agni forgive…_

On the same day that our enemy is sighted, a massive storm rolls into the area. The sky turns black as night, and the wind howls across the sea. The ocean itself seems to be going to war. The waterbenders work overtime to keep us upright and sailing. The rain slashes down in sheets, turning my world into a cacophony of pebbles rattling against an empty pail.

_An empty pail…_

_ We sail…_

Man or woman, old or young, hardened veteran or raw recruit, everyone who's ever gone into battle has felt the same thing in the moments beforehand. Your heart claws up your throat and into your mouth. Your tongue becomes a jagged rock, rasping over the dry sandpaper that was once moist tissue. The world seems both dull and bright, dark and sparkling. Everything is heightened, even as what you are actually aware of narrows. It feels like your traveling through a tunnel at night. It's hard to breath. It's hard to think. _It's hard to so much as __**exist.**_ All you want to do is curl up in a ball under your bed and cry for your mother. You desperately search for any possible way that you could get out of this, that you could turn around, run away. Your hands shake. Sweat comes off you in sheets, even as you shiver from a cold you can do nothing to assuage. You feel like you're already dead, even as you marvel at how you can feel so alive.

Your mind wanders to strange places, too. Afterwards, people will tell you that they thought of family, friends, loved ones. I know I would like to say I spent those last few moments of peace and calm, the wind in my ears and the wind running in rivers down my helm and into my eyes, pining over Katara, but that would be a lie.

Know what I thought about? _Fire flakes._ Seriously. That's all I could think about. I spent the last half-hour before the biggest battle of my life obsessing over fucking _fire flakes._ Ridiculous, I know, but the mind under stress does strange things. I know, because not long before the war horns blew, I turned to my uncle and I said, "Uncle, can I confess something?"

"Of course, Zuko." He was calm and serene. I'd never seen him more relaxed.

"I'm terrified."

He chuckled. "Me, too."

I nod. "Good, I'm not alone. Oh, and I can't stop thinking about fire flakes."

He snorted at that. "Is that so? How strange. I can't stop thinking about sea prunes."

"_Sea prunes?_ Uncle, you hate sea prunes."

"I know! And yet, I can't stop thinking about them." He shrugs. "Such is life, I suppose."

I nod. I look towards the horizon, at the faint lights of burning engines and flickering torches just now beginning to wink into view.

"_Such is life._"

We've sliced deep into the fleet before they even know what's hit them. We hurl ourselves out of the raging sea and crash into their flank, and at least a dozen ships are already broken into pieces before the alarm goes up. Waterbenders leap into action, toppling ships with waves, slicing them in half with whips and massive knives, puncturing holes with hundreds of ice cold spikes. My crew sends up a cheer when the first ship goes down, and then we're firing, too. I stand at the prow, directing the action. Walls and spouts and twisting streams of fire flow from our sides, while the trebuchet hurls balls of fire off into the darkness. Lightning cracks, again and again and again, illuminating a world of twisting, seething water, thunder rumbling like the angry growl of a god, and then the horns blow and we can sense as much as see the rest of the fleet turning about to meet us and the Water Tribe warriors being that war cry of theirs, that screeching, endless wail of anger and rage that freezes your blood in your veins, and the drums are beating out their rhythms and my ship's horn is roaring and the battle is on.

The lines crash together.

_Men screaming and crying and dying…_

Ship meets ship, hull slices into hull, lumbering behemoths of steel and wood scream and groan and die.

_Wood snapping, splintering…_

_ Steel screeching, tearing…_

Fire and ice lash at each other in the rain.

_Steam and mist…_

_ Fathomless cold and immeasurable heat…_

Arrows fly through the air, thick as a horde of angry bees. Spears clatter against the hull.

_Men begin to fall…_

_**Men begin to die…**_

The ship lurches to side. Our eyes, our noses, every sense available to us, are overwhelmed by a horrid squeal, as we ram right into the side of a passing ship that we didn't see. Our hulls scrape against each other, and lightning flashes. I see faces, faces blank with terror and fear. I look at the faces.

_So young…_

_ That one…_

_ He looks just like me…_

_ His mouth drops open…_

_ Does he recognize me?_

_ Or is it just instinct?_

_ He makes a fist, begins to take a form…_

_ I strike first…_

_ He burns…_

_**He dies…**_

_The hulls slide apart…_

_ Men are down on my ship…_

_ Some don't move…_

_ My boys…_

_ I turn away…_

_ We have to press on…_

_**We have a mission to complete…**_

My ship is old, but it's strong, sturdy, _powerful_, and, most importantly, _fast._ Faster than anything the Water Tribes have. That's why we have one mission, and one mission only. We pursue this mission. We don't look back. _It's our only chance._ Eventually, time and weight and force and sheer firepower will overwhelm us, but only if our enemy stands united. Only if they are lead. _Only if there is someone at the helm of ship._

_ Our task is to cut off that head…_

_ My task…_

_**My destiny…**_

We press onward. We leave the main body of the battle behind. Lightning flashes. Ships, many at least twice as large as we are, roar past. Some ignore us, some fire at us. We ignore the ones that ignore us, fire at the ones that fire at us. We press on.

_Lightning…_

_ We see the wave right before it hits us…_

_ The ship lurches…_

_ I fall…_

_ Pain, pain shooting up my arm as I land on my elbow…_

_ I stand, shake it off…_

_ Something sticky on my sleeves…_

_ I brush at it, pull my hand away…_

_ I look at my hand…_

_ My stomach lurches…_

_ The blood congeals and runs away, dripping from my fingers…_

_ I shake my hand off, turn to the ship pulling past us, and begin punching and kicking and wheeling through the air…_

_ When that ship is pulling away, it is reeling, listing, the entire deck on fire…_

_ Men jump screaming into the sea…_

_ My boys cheer…_

_ I feel cold…_

_ So cold…_

_**An empty pail…**_

I honestly have no idea what's going on. I don't think any of us do. We barrel deep into the heart of the fleet. Lightning and thunder, crashing and rumbling all around us. The rain continues to pour, sheets and sheets of it, a staccato drumbeat in the darkness. We fight, we fire, we press on. We move automatically. We don't think. We don't feel. All around me, my boys laugh and scream and cheer and cry and laugh some more. We sound hysterical.

_One of them sounds like me…_

_ But I can't be sure…_

Lightning. A candle in the darkness, shapes moving in the rain. I strain my eyes. _There…or was it?_ I can't be sure. I need more lightning. I need…I need…

_I know what I have to do…_

I close my eyes.

_Lightning is a pure expression of firebending…_

My uncle's voice, rumbling in my head.

_There is energy all around us…_

My men, my boys, fighting and dying.

_Only a select few firebenders can separate these energies…_

My hands begin to move. I close my eyes.

_Remember, you cannot command the energy, you are simply its humble guide…_

I understand now, uncle, I understand.

_I cannot command the world…_

_ I can only command myself…_

There's a blue glow all around me, a crackle and a pop and a sizzle. My hair stands up on end. My fingers tingle. The tingle passes up my hands, my arms, into my chest. I feel the energy, the imbalance, the positive and the negative, struggling to rejoin. I gather it, swinging my arms around. I feel it. _I feel it…_

I close my eyes.

I take a breath.

I see…

_I see…_

_ A face…_

_ A face in the darkness…_

_**Katara…**_

I strike.

The sun rises. A crack, like the end of the world. Everything is bright, bright and clear and _blue_.

_Blue…_

_ Heh…blue…_

And there it is, the biggest ship I've ever seen. It's massive hulk slices through the waves. We're heading straight for its flank. I want to laugh. I really do.

_Maybe the spirits __**don't**__ hate me…_

I turn, grab the man beside me. It's Nakamura, the gentle soul, the artist. His helmet has been knocked from his brow. There's a gash across his forehead. Blood mixed with rain runs in torrents down his face. I pull him close. I scream into his ear.

_"Go to the bridge! Now! Tell them we need ramming speed!" _I shove him towards the conning tower. _**"GO!"**_

He smiles, he nods, he's gone. Not a few minutes later, the ship lurches. I turn to the men on the deck. _Weren't there more of us, just a few minutes ago? Or has it been an hour? A day? What's going on? What's happening?_

I don't know.

In some ways, I don't care.

_"Brace for impact! Prepare to board!"_

They nod, grab on to the rails, steel themselves. Some pull out talismans, medals, keepsakes, press them to their lips. They pray. I pray with them.

_Agni preserve…_

_ Agni defend…_

_ Agni forgive…_

I smile. I can't help myself. I'm about to die and I'm smiling. I want to laugh. I want to laugh even as I want to cry. I don't understand. I never will.

The ship looms above us, like a giant from a fairy tale, black as the pits of hell. They don't seem to see us coming.

_They'll know we're here soon…_

We're almost there.

_Almost there…_

_ One face…_

_ One thought…_

_ One word…_

_**Katara…**_

Back in the early days of the war, Fire Nation ships were known for their fearsome prows, great, sharp, dangerous beaks, which could slice through enemy ships like a knife through tissue paper. Some time ago, they stopped putting those rams on ships. Too many ships were lost to foolish attempts to ram the enemy. The emphasis was placed on firepower. Funny story, though…see, the last class of ships that had those rams?

_My ship was one of them…_

_ We never did figure out how to get that stupid ram off…_

The ship shudders to a stop. I feel my shoulders strain and grind and pop against the force of the impact. Some men don't make it. They go tumbling across the deck. Before us, the ram slices into our target. It sounds like what I imagine a god would sound like, if they died. My blood shivers at the sound. It goes on and on and on and on and…

_It stops…_

The great beast has been punctured. It's bleeding.

_Time to make sure it dies…_

I'm on my feet. My sword is in my hand. I don't remember unsheathing it. The metal shimmers in the light of fire and lightning and death. Swords spring to life around me, flashing in the darkness, a parade of lights for the damned. I raise my sword high.

_Time to end this…_

_ "BANZAI!"_

_ The call comes back._

_**"BANZAI!"**_

We charge. The world of rain and lightning and death cuts out like a candle as we pour over the end of the ship and leap onto the easiest deck we can get to. We hack. We slash. We scream. We chant. Blood splatters the walls, runs in rivers along the floor.

We don't stop. We press on. Half of us head for the engine room, led by my uncle.

The other half follow me.

We're going up.

_ Up…_

_ To meet our destiny…_

* * *

Man, it's been awhile since I got to write a battle scene. Hope my touch hasn't left me!

Really not much to be said about this. In case you don't follow, while the rest of the fleet does battle, Zuko's ship uses its armor and its firepower to slice into the heart of the Fire Nation force, and take down Zhao's ship. At the very least, if Zhao is busy defending himself, he won't be able to give orders. The Fire Nation fleet is confused and disordered enough as is.

_They just need that time…_

The question is, how many will survive to see the end of it?

For those playing the home game, I highly recommend looking up Two Steps from Hell's "Protectors of the Earth" and playing it in the background while reading this.

In the next chapter, Zuko fights the Agni Kai of his life, against a man named Zhao, and, in some ways, meets his destiny. Stay tuned!


	41. Chapter 41

41. I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE HOW I MADE IT TO THE DECK. I honestly haven't the faintest fucking clue. When we boarded the ship, about twenty men were following me. Their names ring out in my head.

_Nakamura…_

_ Gato…_

_ Uchimura…_

_ Suzuki…_

_ Yamadera…_

_ Takeshi…_

_ Akashiya…_

_ And on and on and on…_

What follows is a swirl, confusion, blood, pain. Something slashes at my arm. Fire slices into my senses. There's blood running down my arm, sloshing inside my armor. I remember someone diving into me, tackling me into a wall. I remember burning his face into ashes. I remember the screaming. The crying. Men crawling along the corridors. Blast marks blackening the walls. Blood…

_Blood everywhere…_

_ On the walls…_

_ On the floor…_

_ Dripping from the blade of my sword…_

_ Sticking to the skin on my face…_

We don't move with any particular coordination, we just move up. Our target will either stay above, or he will come down to meet us. Either way, he won't be doing what he should be doing. I remember thinking about that, when I'm doing anything that can be called _thinking._

_Red…_

_ I remember that…_

_ A world bathed in red…_

_ Red and orange and purple and pink and __**fire…**_

_Swords flashing in the darkness…_

_ Blinding swathes of life, leaving death and gore in their wake…_

_ Pressing onward…_

_ Fighting…_

_ Dying…_

_ I see the faces of the men I kill…_

_ So many of them look so much like me…_

I lose all sense of time. I have no idea how long this has been going on. I have no idea what's happening. It's just hack, slash, parry, thrust, repeat.

_Hack, slash, parry, thrust, repeat…_

_**Hack. Slash. Parry. Thrust. Repeat.**_

_** Repeat.**_

_** REPEAT.**_

_** REPEAT!**_

_And then…_

_ Rain…_

I'm on the deck. Thunder rumbles. Lightning flashes. My chest is heaving. I can barely breathe. I feel battered and bruised. _Did I get hurt?_ I don't remember. I feel in a daze. I look around. The deck is deserted. Rain lashes down from the heavens. Lightning cracks overhead. I blink. Darkness rushes in, but not so fast that I don't see…

_The deck isn't quite deserted…_

A man is walking towards me, slow and steady. I shake myself lose. _How did I get here?_ I walk towards him, my sword gripped tightly in my hand. I feel the blood washing off me. The wind ruffles my hair. _Where did my helmet go?_ I flex my left hand, my free hand, the hand I've burned so many with. _I can see his face._ I feel the rain and the cold lashing the hand. _Where did my glove go? _Out of the corner of my eye, I see the blood dripping from my blade, washing away in the downpour. I take a deep breath. My chest hurts. _Did I break a rib?_ I concentrate on the feeling, take another breath. _No, just cracked. The fuck did that happen?_

It doesn't matter, I suppose. What matters is the man standing before me.

He's a tall man, tall and strong and broad-shouldered. His admiral's armor gleams in the night. His hair is matted to his skull, his thick, bushy sideburns hanging limply in the rain. He looks proud and unbent and unbroken. I heave another breath, and I wonder if he's so much as lifted a finger in this battle.

_It doesn't matter…_

_ He's mine…_

He smiles. His smile is cold and hard. He brings his hands together in a few slow, steady claps. When he speaks, his voice cruel and mocking, shot through with amused malice.

"I have to congratulate you, young man. You have finally managed to ruin me."

I can't help but chuckle at that. I straighten myself out, bite down hard on the pain that shoots up from seemingly every square inch of my body.

"Oh?" I dig my nails into my palm, struggling to control my voice, to let no hint of weakness show. "Is that so?"

He nods. He continues to smile. _Why is he smiling? I don't understand._

"It's true, I really do have to hand it to you. You know whose brainchild this whole invasion was?" He jabs a thumb to his chest. "_Mine._"

I can't help but laugh at that. "I did have a feeling."

He shakes his head. "Did you, now. Well…if so, you were right. You see, when I figured out the North's weakness, I put together this careful plan, and then…guess what? They just rolled over and surrendered, begged to accept any terms I wished to impose. Then the Earth Kingdom crumbled and…well…I had to do _something_ to secure my place in the future. So," he spreads his hands. "_This._"

I smile at him. _I wonder what my smile looks like? Probably like some deranged loon with cracked ribs and no idea of what's going on._ I bite down on a laugh. _Toph would probably like it, if she could see it._

"In other words," I say through gritted teeth, "you did all of this, just to shore up your reputation?"

"More or less. And now? Well, you've ruined. I mean, I'll beat off this assault, no problem, but imagine how I will look? I promised your father a bloodless victory, one to compare to Sozin's glorious triumph over the Air Nomads. _This?_ Well," he shrugs, "I won't lie, it makes me look bad."

"And has gotten a lot of good men killed," I point out. I don't know why, I just do. I'm pretty much playing for time at this point.

He shrugs. "Yeah, well, that's life. You can't farm some rice without whipping a few peasants."

"Heh…if you say so."

He shakes his head. "Weak. That's what you are, _weak._" He sighs. "But, if I kill you, well…at least your father will appreciate that. Hell, I can probably turn the fleet around and go home at that point." He tilts his head. "How does that sound?"

I smile. A memory floats up, unbidden, uncalled for.

_Four years ago. Our ships docked next to each other in port. Standing on the dock. Him looking down on me. We're the same height, and yet, somehow, he's looking down on me. His mouth curls into a snarl. He points at my hair, the hair that's still in that ridiculous, awful, ludicrous-looking ponytail thing. The hairstyle reserved for those in disgrace._

_ "I have to say, boy, I approve of the hair. It shows that you know what you are." He leans in, his breath reeking of decay and death and disdain. "I mean, after all the trouble your father went through to teach you your place, I'd hate to think you still hadn't learned."_

_ I'd never seen my uncle so angry. He almost burned Zhao alive right then and there, though Zhao never knew it. My uncle just nodded and smiled and said, "That's nice of you to say." I knew, though. I could see the signs writ plain as day._

_ I cut off the ponytail the next day._

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts aside.

_He's right._

_ I do know who I am._

_ And it took this scar to teach me._

"I think," I say, voice calm and even, my heartbeat, somehow, I don't understand why, slow and steady, while I sheathe my sword, "that it sounds like you need to go fuck yourself."

I strike. The fireball misses him by a hair. He leaps to the side, rolls across the deck, flips to his feet, fires back as soon as he establishes his roots. I dodge, deflect, fire. He dodges, he deflects, he fires.

We haven't said the words, but we know what this is.

_Agni Kai._

_**To the death.**_

I have been in many fights in my life. In some ways, my whole existence has been a fight, a constant struggle, a crawling, grasping, clawing war to find my place, to find it and stay there and, for once in my miserable fucking life, _find out who the hell I am._

But this…

_But this…_

_ I don't really know what this is._

Lightning flashes, bright as the sun, arcing over us, a cathedral of bright blue flame. Beneath it, we fight. Flames sizzles and roar, crash into and around and through each other. The deck becomes blackened and scorched. Anything in our way is blasted to pieces, melted and reformed into strange, bizarre shapes only to be obliterated again. Every single move is tried, every single form taken. The both of us dredge the depths of what we know, reaching far back into the corners of our minds, calling forth barely remembered lessons. Fire blades and blazing rings and arcs, bombs and circles, daggers and streams and whips and lashes and missiles and pinwheels and comets. Before long, our forms are ragged, our attacks confused, our basics thrown out the window. We lash and slash and hack at each other like two kids learning breathing lessons, fighting behind their tutor's back.

_Dodge, deflect, fire…_

_ Dodge, deflect, fire…_

_**Dodge, deflect, fire…**_

Flames are broken, deflected, redirected. Walls of fire are broken and split and torn asunder. Hair is singed, clothes are scorched, rain turns to steam, forming a constant mist that twists and swirls around us.

_Dodge, deflect, fire…_

_ Dodge, deflect, fire…_

_**Dodge, deflect, fire…**_

He turns, he runs. I follow him, firing. He parries, deflects. _Does he see that I'm tired? Does he see that I'm hurt? _I don't know. _It looks like fear in his eyes._ But I can't be sure. _I don't know what's happening. Everything hurts. I can barely stand._ My very lungs feel harsh and ragged, almost as if they've been scorched. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. _Does he know? _It doesn't matter. I will end this. _One way or the other._

I watch him run. _Where's he going?_ I don't care. I'll never know what his plan was. He doesn't complete it. For the first time in the entire fight, I bother to gather energy. My muscles, my senses, my blood, scream at the effort. I push through it.

_Remember your basics, Zuko._

I form the whip.

_Break his roots!_

I slice the whip through the air. I don't think he sees it coming. He's too intent on what he's trying to do. _Maybe get help? Reinforcements? Jump to another ship? The coward._ The whip slices at his legs. His legs go out from under him. He's flying. He lands. I can hear him scream.

_I've won._

And then I'm flying. I'm dizzy. I'm confused. I think I might be hurt worse than I thought I was. _Maybe my ribs __**are**__ broken._ I don't know. All I know is that I don't see him make the desperate move, the desperate, ragged, would never work in an even fight form, sending out a circular wall of fire from where he strikes the ground. He's screaming, but so am I. I'm barely able to stop the flames from burning me. I can't even stop the shockwave. I'm flying. Flying…

_Flying…_

_ I always wanted to fly…_

My right leg hits the deck before the rest of me does. That's when I hear it.

_Crack!_

Pain slices into my brain like a hot knife. The world twists and turns around me. Bile rises in my throat. I scream. Or at least I try to. I don't know if I have the ability to scream anymore. I can't breathe. I can't think. There's only the pain, red and hot and horrid, shivering up my body in waves. I don't look at my leg. _I don't want to._ If I look, I'll know how bad it is. _ I have to get up._ I scramble around, grasp a nearby railing. _I have to get up._ I pull, hang all my weight from my arms. _I can't breathe. _My mind reels. The world spins around me. The deck is heaving. _Is that the storm? Or is that just me?_ I don't know. I don't care. There's only one thing I know.

_I have to get up._

I'm up. I smile. I put my weight on left leg. _Alright._ I put my weight on my right leg.

_Crack!_

I fall. Blackness swirls at the corners of my vision. I feel like I'm falling down a tunnel. A whooshing sound, like wind roaring down a mountain, in my ears. I shake it away. _Push it away._ Not now. _Not now._

_ I made a promise._

_ I promised Katara._

_**This isn't the end…**_

But I know it is.

I sense the laughter before I hear it. I look up. Zhao is standing. One arm hangs limply at his side, twisted and bent at an unnatural angle. Blood pours down his face. The armor on his legs is torn, tattered, twisted, scorched. He's not walking well. He's limping. He's carrying a spear in his hand, the hand attached to his unbroken arm.

_Heh…he looks as bad as me…_

"You know, _boy_," he says, screaming over the wind and the rain, "did you know that you've had an arrow in your shoulder this whole time?"

I try to look at my left shoulder, but I can't twist my head around far enough for my right eye to see. I start to reach for it, for the pain that I'm just starting to feel radiating out from that spot, and finally, all I can do is shrug and drop my hands into my lap. I hurl myself back against the railing, and cough. I look at my hand. _No blood._ Well then. _There's that, I suppose._

He's laughing. He sounds almost hysterical.

"I have to say, _boy_, as much as I hate to admit it, but you had me. I really thought I was done for. I thought, _No way will this work._ But, lo and behold! _**It did.**_"

He's moved into true hysterics now. I can barely tell if he's laughing or crying. Lightning slices the sky and for a second, I see his face, and which I hadn't.

_His face looks like the face of hell…_

"Well," I croak out, "at least I managed to kick your ass."

He shakes his head, his shoulders heaving up and down. He tosses the spear up and down in the air. "Whatever. So, you won a fucking battle. So what? _I'm the one who killed you._"

I have to laugh. I don't know why. I can feel things slipping around inside. _Definitely broke something now._

His eyes flare wide. _"Why the fuck are you laughing?!"_

"Because of the best part."

He stares. He waits.

"The plan that beat you? It wasn't mine. The Water Tribesmen came up with it. It was all theirs." I twist my face into something I'm glad I can't see. _"You got beaten by a bunch of illiterate barbarians, you miserable fucking prick."_

He screams. He screams and raves and his face twists into something inhuman. He raises the spear. He's going to throw. At this distance? He can't miss. I close my eyes.

_I'm sorry, Katara…_

_ Please forgive me…_

_**I tried…**_

There's a roar, a roar of flame, and then a spear, clattering to the ground. Someone is grapping me, shaking me. A voice, a voice I know.

_Uncle…_

_ "Zuko! Zuko, open your eyes! Please, open your eyes!"_

I open them. How could I not? _Uncle said please…_

His eyes fill with tears as soon as he sees I'm alive. He wraps his arms around me. I want to hug him back, but I can't. _I can barely breathe, much less __**hug**_. Figures uncle would try to be affectionate when I'm only half-alive.

_If that…_

He shakes his head, clucking his tongue. His hands are around my face. I take the time to look at him. _Where did all this light come from?_ I really don't understand. _Is the ship on fire? Did Zhao and I do that? Heh…cool…_

"Oh, Zuko, you crazy, insane, marvelous boy. What am I going to do with you?"

I laugh. His eyes don't fly wide, so I can only assume that I'm still not spitting up blood.

"I dunno…get me back to Katara? I'd really appreciate that." I cough. _It hurts._ "She can heal me, and plus, if I don't get back, I'll be in…in…" I struggle for the word. It's really hard to think. My thoughts are a shattered whirl of confusion. _Where am I?_ I shake my head. _No, we're not going into fucking shock, your fucking dipshit. _"I'll be in _trouble._"

He laughs. "Well, we can't have that, because then I'll be in trouble, too." He coughs. Then it's my eye flying wide.

_Blood…_

_ There's blood dribbling down his lips…_

_ "Uncle? Your…your lip…"_

He shrugs, smiles that _stupid fucking smile of his._ "Yes, well, these things happen." He gasps, and then, suddenly, it's like the strength goes out of him. He slumps down, against the railing beside me, and I see, I see, _I see…_

_ I see the sword, broken off in his stomach…_

_ I don't…I don't…_

_ No…_

_ No…_

_**NO!**_

I reach over, grab his shoulders, shake him. "Uncle? Uncle? _UNCLE?!"_

He laughs. _Why is he still laughing?! _"Oh, Zuko, you're a good boy, you know that? You can be really stupid sometimes, but good."

I'm screaming at him now.

_"I'm stupid?! I'm not the one who walked through the entire fucking ship with a __**gods-damn sword in his motherfucking stomach!**__"_

He clucks his tongue. There's more blood now, it's almost pouring out of his mouth.

"Now, now, Zuko, there's no cause for language. Do you really want those to be the last words you say to your decrepit old uncle?"

The fight goes out of me at that. All the pain, the fear, the heartache, _the rage_, it's all…just…_gone._ I slump back against the railing. Never in my life have I wanted a cigarette more. I've got broken ribs and I'm pretty sure a broken leg and there's a fucking arrow in my shoulder and I'm pretty sure someone sliced my arm pretty good and it's raining and my uncle's bleeding out beside me right after saving my life through some sort of fucked up adrenaline trip and guess what? _I just want a fucking cigarette._

_ Or a drink. _

_ That'd be nice, too._

"Uncle?"

It feels like a long time before he answers. When he does, his voice is fading away. _"Yes, Zuko?"_

"Did you manage to plant the bomb?"

He nods, slowly, his eyes closed. _"Yes, Zuko, we did. It was hard, but we did. It should be going off any minute now."_

I sigh with relief, close my eyes.

_"That's good. At least we got something done."_

Silence. Rain. Lightning. Thunder.

_Pebbles against an empty pail…_

_ Blue eyes, soft hair, dark skin, twisting around each other in the dark…_

_**I love you…**_

_"Zuko?"_

I open my eyes. "Yes, uncle?"

_"Promise me something."_

"Anything, uncle. Anything at all."

_"Heh…when you get the chance, when you're feeling better and everything, you promise me that you'll marry that girl. You'll marry her, and you'll both settle down, and you'll have lots and lots of beautiful babies, and forget about all of this."_

I shake my head. It's hard not to laugh.

"Uncle…we're going to be blown to bits in a few minutes. I'd love to do that, but…_come on._"

He sighs.

_"Ahh, the folly of youth."_

"Look, uncle, I'm not going anywhere. You're dying and I can barely walk and…_fuck it, uncle, even if I could, I wouldn't leave you."_

He laughs.

_Fucking laughs._

_ "Your future wife is right. You really are an idiot."_

And then his hands are on my shoulders, and he's pushing me and pulling me, and before I know it, I'm sliding over the rails and falling and screaming and falling and then the water it's cold _so cold I can't see I don't want to see and then I'm swimming and there's a boom, a sound like paper being crumpled against my ear, and somehow I'm swimming, I don't know how, I hurt so much, I hurt and I'm crying and then my hand strikes something and my head breaks the surface and I fucking __**breathe…**_

My arm is wrapped around a piece of wood. I pull myself on to it, hanging off of it. I look behind me. Far away (_how did I get so far away?_), the great behemoth crackles and flames and roars and dies. It's sinking beneath the waves, pulling my tiny little ship down with it. It's done.

_It's over._

I know I'm crying, but the tears are washed away by the way.

_I really wish they would stay…_

I wrap myself around the plank. I hook myself onto it. I don't really know what I'm doing, I'm just moving out of instinct. I don't know why. _I don't understand._

I close my eyes. I can hear the roar of the flames in my ear. Someone's shouting. It sounds like Suomi, but that can't be right.

_Can it?_

_ I don't know._

_ I don't care._

_ A face._

_**Katara…**_

That's all I remember.

* * *

Well, then…that was intense. I can only hope it was as crazy for you reading it as it was for me writing it.

Only one thing to say, really: If anyone thinks, _Zuko was too close to the explosion to survive the shockwave_, yeah, well, whatever. _Plot armor._

In the next chapter, Zuko's pretty sure he's done for, and he's not entirely sure what to think about that. Stay tuned!

PS – Please think good thoughts for Iroh. RIP.


	42. Chapter 42

42. IF THERE'S ONE THING I ASSOCIATE WITH MY MOTHER, IT'S TURTLE-DUCKS. That's something we used to do, all the time, when I was a kid, sit out by the pond and play with the turtle-ducks. Oddly enough, my grandfather, Azulon, had a bit of a green thumb. He loved gardening and landscaping and shit like that. It's kind of weird, when you think about, this man who spent most of his day leading a brutal war of world conquest wiling away his spare time clucking over fire lilies and cherry-blossoms, but it's true. He had this one little garden, a truly magnificent place, gorgeous, all carefully constructed around this little, immaculately-maintained pond, and in this pond were turtle-ducks, and my mom would often take me down to play with said turtle-ducks. Those are some of my favorite memories, some of the few positive ones I have. I really miss the old days, early on, when I was still too young to see the dark shadows lurking in the corners, before I learned to truly _see_ the world around me.

_Which, looking back, was a huge mistake…_

The funny thing is…and I'm not sure how funny this will seem to, well, _anyone_ (_Toph would get it, I like to think_), but…I _hated_ playing with the turtle-ducks. They were cute, sure, but they smelled and they bit and I never seemed able to get them to do what I wanted them to do. But my mother seemed to want to play with them, so I did my best to play with them, and at least _look_ like I was enjoying myself. Sometimes, just to see my mother smile, I'd take the initiative and suggest going to the pond. That always seemed to make her laugh.

Looking back…I can't help but wonder if she was only playing along because she thought I enjoyed it. That would've been a good conversation to have, years later, when I was grown and we sat down on a porch and sipped some tea. She could meet Katara (_I know they'd love each other_), and tell her about how the turtle-ducks always bit me, and I could finally admit that I only played with them because I thought she liked it, and then she would admit that she only took me because _she_ thought _I _liked it, and then we'd all have a good laugh and…and…

_And…_

_ I don't know…_

_ Voices…_

_ I'm hearing voices…_

_ Some of them sound familiar…_

_ "Varovainen! Ei liian nopeasti! Onko hän elossa? Minulla hänet!"_

_ I don't understand…_

_ Why don't I understand?_

_ I should…_

_ Shouldn't I?_

_ Does it matter?_

_ I feel so weak…_

_ It all hurts so much…_

_ But almost not at all…_

I'm seventeen. I'm walking home from a play. Mai is beside me. Servants trail behind us, and there are guards all around. We walk a good foot apart. We work very hard not to come into physical contact of any kind. I hadn't really wanted to take Mai to a play, because I couldn't imagine her enjoying it, but my father had decided that, what with our wedding scheduled for about two years hence, it would be good if the both of us were seen in public more, preferably together. And so, unable to think of an actual objection, must less one my father would listen to, I had taken the Lady Arinori Mai to a play.

I don't remember what the play was, but I remember that she had remained largely motionless throughout, and that she had clapped only twice, once at the end of the first act, and once at the final curtain. My memories tell me that it was a nice night, but that could be wrong. I don't know. I really don't.

We had barely said ten words to each other during the past three hours. I decided, on a whim, to change that.

"So, my lady," I ask, doing my best to smile and be sincere, "how did you enjoy the play?"

She didn't look at me, just kept walking, hands clasped in sleeves in front of her, eyes focused straight ahead on something I couldn't begin to comprehend. When she spoke, her voice was expressionless and flat and cold.

"It was alright, I suppose. Interesting, if that's your sort of thing. What did you think, your highness?"

I shrug, clear my throat, look ahead, try to be nonchalant.

"Well, I thought it was rather funny, really." I sigh, turn back to her with a smile. "Also, you don't have to keep calling me _Prince_ or _your highness_ or things like that."

I see an eyebrow pop, fast, up and down.

"Oh? And what should I call you?"

"Well," I say, feeling awkward, mentally counting the steps until I can deposit her at her parents' house, "you could always call me _Zuko._"

There's a long, drawn-out pause. I hear some of the servants clear their throats and do their best to pretend that they can't hear. I appreciate their concern.

Finally, she speaks.

"If that is what you prefer, your highness."

"It would make things…easier…don't you think?"

She finally spares me a look. It's quick and fast and very, very cold, before she turns away.

"How do you mean?"

"I…nevermind."

"If you wish."

"Yeah…"

We didn't say another word, didn't even really say goodbye. I just dropped her with her parents and then walked away, feeling, for lack of a better word…_disappointed…_

_ Disappointed…_

_ I'm not in the water anymore…_

_ I feel lighter…_

_ There's pulling and tugging, tugging and pulling…_

_ I think someone's cutting off my armor…_

_ Voices…_

_ More voices…_

_ They sound urgent, frightened, upset…_

_ One of them…_

_ Sokka…?_

_ That can't be true…_

_ Can it…?_

_ "Varovasti, senkin idiootti! Anna hänelle huoneeseen! Hanki parantaja! Nyt!_"

_What are they saying?_

_ Don't they know I'm already dead…?_

_ Already…_

_ Dead…?_

I first met my uncle when I was three. Either he had been away on campaign, or I was just too young to remember any visits before that. But one thing I will never forget as how, when he saw me, he ignored all the protocol, all the etiquette, _everything._ He just interrupted me in the middle of my carefully prepared speech (_which my father had drilled into me with the back of his hand_), scooped me up in his arms, and hugged me so hard I thought my head was going to pop off my neck. I remember being terrified; this was, literally, the biggest, burliest, strongest man I'd ever come into contact with. It hurt a little, that hug, but I never wanted it to end. It was very hard not to burst into tears. I didn't know what to do, or think, or say, I just hugged him back, while trying not to look like I was doing so. Somehow, deep down in the depths of a mind that hadn't even _begun_ to properly develop, I knew that I would be punished for hugging back. And yet…

I'll never forget that moment, because it was the first time I'd ever been hugged.

_Ever…_

_ Ever…_

_ It feels like I'm moving, but I can't be sure. The world is all echoes, screaming, terror, men crying and wailing in the darkness. At least, I think it's dark. _

_ I can't be sure…_

_ "Ole varovainen, hitto vie! Missä se vitun parantaja?!"_

_ I want to say something, but I can't. It's very bright, and yet, very dark. I feel like I'm shrouded in mist. My whole body is a great, red, weeping mass of pain. It's hard to breathe. It's hard to think. My throat feels like I've swallowed glass._

_ "Zuko, kaveri, sinun täytyy pysyä kanssani!"_

_ Zuko…?_

_ Who's Zuko…_

_ Is that me…?_

_ Or is that someone else…_

There were very few people in my life who ever used my name. Azula always just called me _Zu-Zu._ My grandfather just called me _boy._ Everyone else, even the friends I made during my year at Master Piandao's sword academy, _or, at least, the closest I got to friends_, only ever called me _sir_ or _my lord_ or _your highness_, no matter how much I begged them to stop. Mai never used my name. My mother always called me pet names.

Lu Ten used my name, though.

My uncle used my name.

_My father never bothered to call me anything…_

He used my name once, though. The morning after my mother disappeared, the morning after my grandfather died, the morning after my father seized the throne, my father came into my room. I hadn't slept all night. I'd stayed awake, reading, shaken to my core by my mother's visit (_Everything I do, I do for you_) and Azula's mocking words (_Can I have your map collection when you're dead?_). I was twelve. My father stepped into my room, an unreadable expression on his face, and said words I'll never forget.

_"Your mother is gone, Zuko, and she'll never be back. You'll never see her again, and you'll never so much as think about mentioning her name again. I'm telling you this so you don't mess things up, like you always do, and also because I want to make sure you know that it's all your fault."_

_ And then he slammed the door…_

_ The door…_

_ Somewhere, a door has slammed. It feels very far away. There are hands on me, hands all over me, frantic voices babbling over and around and through each other. Someone's holding my hand, or I'm holding theirs, I don't know, I can't tell. I want to cry, but I can't. I just don't have the energy. Can I cry? I don't know…_

_ I don't know…_

_ "Zuko, kaveri, oletko siellä? Puhu minulle…"_

_ Sokka…?_

_ How did…_

_ I don't…_

_ But…_

_ "Sokka, anatana no? Koko wa doko? Doko oji gadesu ka?"_

_ Sokka, is that you? Where am I? Where's uncle?_

_ The world grinds to a halt. No one moves, no one breathes, no one flinches. A voice, I know it's Sokka's now, he's leaning very close, he's talking into my ear, or at least I think is, I can't tell if I have an ear anymore…_

_ "Hei, kaveri, mitään mahdollisuutta yrität sitä enää?"_

_ I'm shaking my head. I'm not shaking my head. I'm breathing. I'm not breathing. Blood flows. Blood withers and dries up and flies away. I can see it floating away from me. I want to reach out and catch it, but I can't. It's too far, and I don't think I have fingers anymore…_

_ "Wakarimasen. Koko wa doko? Watashi no norikumiin wa daijōbudesuka?"_

_ I don't understand. Where am I? Is my crew alright?_

_ There's another pause, I don't know for how long, and then I'm falling, the tunnel, the lights, they're all going away, fading away, I'm clawing at the walls of that tunnel, I'm falling, I don't want to fall, I don't want to die, I don't want to…_

_ Voices, voices in the dark, I can't understand them, they're so far away…_

It's early in the summer. A year ago. A thousand years ago. I don't know. It all seem so far away. There's a woman, she's sitting next to me, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, ever will see, _ever want to see_. She has these few strands of hair that keep escaping from behind her ear. Every once in a while, when's she nervous or when she's trying to smile or when she's trying to cover up a blush, she'll reach up and push those hairs back, back behind that ear, _that lovely, beautiful ear,_ and every time she does, I want to reach out and brush those strands of hair away and tuck them behind her ear, and I want to smile into her eyes and tell her she looks like a dream, that surely she can't be real, _none of this can be real…_

_ I'm not supposed to get a happy ending…_

_ I don't care about the happy ending…_

_**I just don't want to die…**_

_Darkness…_

* * *

You know…I'm pretty sure that that's the shortest chapter by far…

This was actually the hardest chapter to write, evidenced by how long I've had to spend working on it today. Those of you who've been with me since the beginning will know that there's a pretty similar chapter to this in _A Different Path_. The problem was that I really wanted to make this chapter…well…_different from that_, which was hard to do, because that chapter was pretty kickass. It's always tempting to go back and find something that you did that worked, and do that all over again.

But, alas, I expect better of myself. _Damn you, desire to do good work! Blergh!_

Anyways, yeah, Zuko's in a lot of trouble, but, don't worry, he has Plot Armor for at _least_ the next chapter or two. *laughs maniacally*

For those playing the home game, I didn't translate any of the Finnish (or _Suomi_, in the context of the story) because, well…I've always believed that if the person from whose view point we're in doesn't understand what's going on, then neither should the reader. Zuko's fading in and out of deep shock right now; his brain isn't capable of doing translation work at the moment. If it bothers you, though, the basic gist is that they're all saying things like, _Be careful! Get the healer! Zuko, buddy, are you there? Talk to me!_

In the next chapter, Zuko wakes up for a little bit, and Sokka tries to break things to him gently. Stay tuned!


	43. Chapter 43

43. WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, MY FIRST SENSATION IS TERROR. Half the world is blocked out, the entire left half, just…_gone._ For a few moments, I don't understand what's happening. I don't know where I am, what time it is, what day it is, _I barely know who I am,_ and there I am, somewhere, _I don't know where_, and _half the fucking world is gone…_

And then I remember that I'm blind in my left eye, and I calm down a little bit.

I look around the room, or, at least, I try to. I'm not even entirely sure it's a room. I'm not entirely sure of…well…_of anything._ I'm confused. My mouth is dry, and I don't really feel like I'm actually _there._ I feel like I'm floating, _floating on air,_ that I'm looking down on myself, watching someone who looks like me acting out lines in a play, reading off a script in a language the actor doesn't understand.

_Am that what I am? A shitty actor in a shitty play? That doesn't even make sense…_

_ Of course, what does?_

I have no answer for that question. I never have an answer to…well…_any_ question. I float through life like I'm floating through that room. _If it actually is a room._

_The room…_

It's a very small room, a cabin, really, sparsely furnished. _Or maybe I just can't see anything._ That wouldn't be too surprising; the entire world is blurry, hazy, indistinct. _Did I already say that? Did I already think that?_ It's so hard to focus. My head hurts just trying to move it around on my neck. If one could actually be a _bruise_, I'm pretty sure this is what it would feel like. _One giant, black and purple bruise…_

_ Shaped like a man…_

_ Or at least, what's left of one…_

I don't know how long I'm staring at the figure slumped in a chair in the corner before I realize that I am, indeed, staring at a figure slumped in a chair in the corner. It's asleep, or, at least, it looks like it's asleep. I want to know who it is, what it is. Is it Death, finally come to collect me? Is it my uncle, come to wake me up from a bad dream? Maybe this is a dream, all the past five years. I'm finally waking up. I've been sick, ill, I'm going to open my eyes and I'll be in my old room in the palace and this is all going to turn out to have been some strange, bizarre, surreal dream. Yeah, that's it. _That's it…_

_ Only…that __**would**__ be the dream…_

_ The dream…_

_ Dream…_

I blink. I was drifting off. _It's so hard to stay awake._ I try to speak. No words come out. My tongue scrapes around in my mouth, my words scratch and spark in my throat. I try to shake my head. The whole world spins, spins and spins and _spins._ The room heaves and swims and bright lights explode in my eyes. I'm spinning and I'm falling and then I'm rolled over on my side and hanging off the bed (_I'm in a bed, I know that now, I must be in a bed, because I have pillows and a blanket and there's more than hard, weathered wood or hammered steel underneath my body_) and I'm throwing up and I can't stop and the vomit splatters on the floor and the world is still fucking _spinning_ and it's hard to breathe and bile burns in my mouth and my throat and my nostrils. I blink back tears and I feel my body break out in a horrid covering of sweat and I can feel the sweat dripping down my brow and into the only eye that actually has feeling. I reach up and try to wipe the sweat away and my whole world spins and it's too much and then I'm throwing up again.

Before I make another attempt at getting the sweat out of my eye, someone's next to me, crouching down beside me, and there's a cool cloth being pressed to my face. I can't help but sigh in bliss and I immediately feel better. The bursts and lights and sparkles dancing around in my vision start to fade away, and air rushes into my skin as the cloth dabs at the sweat on my face, and then strong hands are taking my shoulders, very gently, and I'm very carefully being rolled back onto the bed.

I don't see the figure move away, but I _feel_ them move away, I _sense_ it, and then there's the sound of a chair being scrapped across the floor, and I wince. The noise hurts, like, _really fucking hurts,_ but I can't say anything, because it hurts to speak, and then the noise stops and there's the sound of someone settling into a chair and the cloth is back at my face, dabbing the sweat and the pain away. I close my eyes and let them work, feeling as helpless and useless as a newborn baby, if newborn babies could feel such things.

_Heh…I bet Azula did. Azula's like that. She's crazy. She…she…_

I lose the train of thought. I try to shake the last dregs of it away, but the world starts to spin again and I clamp my eyes even more tightly shut and wait until the bile crawls back down my throat. I wait, and I listen.

_I feel so warm, warm and fuzzy and empty and cold…_

_ A voice, soft and low, words in Suomi, flowing like a stream babbling over polished rocks…_

_ "Hey, buddy, how're you doing?"_

I open my eyes. A face looms over me, jaw covered in several days' worth of stubble, dark circles under the eyes, features worn and haggard and tired. His wolf-tail is undone, hair hanging limp and greasy and unwashed around his face, eyes thick and milky with exhaustion.

_Heh…a sight for sore eyes…_

_ "Sokka…?"_

I frown at my voice. It sounds raspy, dry, disused. It hurts to speak, like it hurts to do literally anything else. Sokka still smiles, though, smiles that stupid, idiot grin of his.

_I've never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life…_

"Yup, it's me. I'm here, you're here, we're all alive."

I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a dry, hacking cough. I try to stop, but I can't. It seems all I can do is cough. I cough and I cough and my head spins and the lights start exploding in my eyes (_even the dead one_), until some is pressed to my lips and the something is tilted (_I guess it's a cup_) and ice cold water slides down my throat. I lap at it greedily, like a dog, all pretense at pride and dignity forgotten, because I'm thirsty, _so fucking thirsty_, and I just want to _stop fucking coughing._

My uncle's voice echoes in my ears, soft and kind, and for a second, I can almost feel him in the room, patting my head, holding my hand.

_"Don't stand on your pride, Zuko. Even kings forget to be noble when they're hurt."_

I didn't understand what he meant then. I understand now.

The cup is empty, and Sokka takes it away. The cloth, _so soft, so cool, it's wonderful_, is laid carefully on my forehead, and I hear the sound of more water being poured into a cup, and then the cup is back, and I'm almost crazy for it, _even the sound if it being poured into a cup was cold_, I drain the cup and Sokka starts laughing.

"Thirsty, eh? Feel a bit better?"

I nod, I nod and try to smile, no matter how much it hurts. Judging from the look on Sokka's face, what comes out is probably closer to a grimace than a smile, but he does his best to smile back before he settles back down in his chair. He leans onto the side of the bed, elbows propped on the mattress (_or what passes for a mattress, I can feel the slats of the frame through the padding_), and runs his hands over his face. He looks exhausted, like he hasn't slept in days.

_Days…_

I clear my throat, or try to, wincing at the pain. I take a breath, let it out, try again.

_"Where…where am I?"_

His grin turns a little more genuine. "Remember how to speak Suomi again, eh?"

I resist the urge to laugh. _"I forgot…?"_

He nods, still grinning, reaches a hand out and pats my arm, very softly, light as a feather. _It still hurts, though, but I try not show it. It's worth it, to have a friend here._

"Yeah, pretty much. Ever since we fished you out of the water, you've done nothing but babble in that crazy language of yours." He chuckles, shaking his head, his fingers buried deep in his ragged hair. "I was beginning to think we'd never get a straight word out of you."

_"Heh…I guess I started channeling my uncle…"_

Something flickers across his face, so fast I barely see it. Something catches in my chest, like a shard of ice being sunk deep into my heart. My whole body twitches at the sensation. I don't understand the feeling, I don't understand the look that flashes through his eyes.

_Or maybe I just don't want to…_

"Yeah," he says, lips hard and thin, "I guess…"

For some reason, I'm desperate that he not finish that thought. I don't know I feel this way, I just do. _I've never been so certain of anything in my life…_

_ "So…heh…you gonna tell me where the fuck I am?"_

He rolls his eyes. "There's my best buddy. But…you're on my ship…or, I guess, my dad's ship…"

I try to nod, which feels more like I just kind of twitch my chin up and down. _"How…how did I get here…?"_

He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Well…there's a story in that, isn't there?"

_"You…you tell me…"_

"Yeah…well…" Another inhale, another exhale. _What's he steeling himself for? I don't know…_

_ I don't want to know…_

_**But I have to…**_

"I guess…I guess I'll just start at the beginning…"

_"That would be nice…"_

"Heh…yeah…well, for one thing, it turns out your people weren't as keen for a fight as we thought they were, or maybe we just caught them with their pants around their ankles."

_"So…we won?"_

He nods, and for the first time, actually seems to smile.

"Yeah…we won. They started to recover from the shock after a bit, and, let me tell you, that was…_it was a near-run thing for a bit._ It was just this…_this big fucking chaotic mess_. From one minute to the next, I never knew what the fuck was happening. _None of us did._ And then…the line started to break, and we were through, and when the flagship went up, well…all the fight seemed to go out of them. They just…_scattered_, I guess would be the right word. Some surrendered, a few stood and fought, but most just ran for the hills. So…yeah, I guess you could say we won, man."

It takes a few minutes for that to sink in. When it does, I smile, though, again, I don't want to see the twisted facsimile of a smile that no doubt twists my face and keeps making my best friend frown and look away.

_"How…how many did we lose?"_

He goes quiet. For a time, all I can hear is the creaking of the ship (_I know I'm on a ship now, that's why the room keeps tilting to-and-fro, unless it's just me, in which case I don't know what the fuck is going on_). When he finally speaks, it's in a whisper so soft I can barely hear it.

_"We…we lost a lot."_ Another deep, calming breath. "It's still early, but…near as we can tell, we lost about thirty, thirty-five ships, maybe a few more, maybe a few less. And…and…" His voice catches, and he reaches up and rubs his eyes before finishing. "We lost at least four, five-thousand men." He looks at me, glistening tears in his eyes. "It was bad, man, I won't lie to you."

I try to life my hand, but I can't. The best I can do is slide this pale, trembling _thing_ that looks like my hand towards his, slide it on top of his hand, and feebly perform something that could generously be called _a pat._

_"Hey, I'm sorry…"_

He snorts. "_You're sorry?!_ Gods, Zuko…" He buries his face in his hands once more. _"You have nothing to be fucking sorry about, Zuko…"_

I frown. _What does he mean?_

_ The words, peeling like bells in my mind…_

_ Ask him…_

_ Ask him…_

_**Ask him what you want to know…**_

I don't. I bury the question, lock it away, down where I hope I can't find it, where I pray it can't escape.

_Though I know it will…_

_ "What…what happened to me? How bad is it?"_

He gives me a long, searching look, peeking out from between his fingers, as if he knows, _he knows what I'm trying to ask_, but it's like he wants to give an answer as much as I want to hear one, which is _not at all_, so he just sighs and shakes his head and crosses his arms on the edge of the bed.

"Well…I'm not gonna lie, dude, you got the shit beat out of you."

I can't help but try to laugh at that. _"Tell me something I don't know."_

He chuckles. "Alright. According to the healers, you have several cracked ribs, and at least two that are broken. There was an arrow shot all the way through your left shoulder that we had to pull out, and someone made a pretty good attempt at slicing your right arm open from shoulder to elbow. Your whole body was covered in bruises, like someone had used you for a punching bag, and then, to round it all our, your lower right leg is pretty much shattered."

I take a deep breath, let it out, use the pain to focus my mind.

_"So, not that bad, then…?"_

He lets out a snort, and nods. "Yeah, not that bad, man." He leans back a little, looks me up and down. "You'll be happy to know, though, that most of it can be fixed. The healers on board have managed to patch up a lot of the lesser stuff, and there don't seem to be any internal injuries – _whatever the fuck that means _– and once we get you back home, Katara will be able to take care of the rest."

I like to think the smile I give actually looks like one this time.

_"Katara…it'll be nice to see her…think she'll be mad?"_

He scoffs. "At you? _Gods no._ Dad and I are pretty much fucking _dead_, though, once she sees the state you're bringing you back in."

_"Heh…I imagine she'll be too busy putting me back together…"_

He rolls his eyes. "But not too busy to give Toph free reign to terrorize us in our sleep."

_"Psh, Toph wouldn't do that._"

He laughs. "Dude, you're pretty much one of her favorite people in the fucking world. Dad and I'll be lucky if she doesn't kill us on _sight._"

I roll my eyes, and I _really_ don't want to know how pathetic that turns out.

_"Oh, hush, you drama queen…"_

It's nice, the moment that follows. For a few seconds, gone far too soon, it's like the winter, all over again. We're sitting by a fishing hole, passing a bottle of whatever the fuck it is that these people drink (_I'm still not entirely sure what the hell it is, or even how it's made, but I stopped caring quite some time ago, I'm even starting to like it, why am I thinking about this?_) back and forth, and we're laughing and trading dirty jokes and he's teasing me and I'm teasing him and I'm eagerly not looking forward to when I finally get a bite, because I just _know_ that it's going to be, like, a fucking _tenth_ of the size of whatever he catches. It happened every time, it never failed. He always had the same fucking quip for it, too.

_"Hey, that's just the gods' way of evening the scales, jerkbender. You don't get to date the most beautiful little sister in the world __**and**__ catch the nice fish, you know."_

And I'd always reply the same way.

_"Yeah, well, it's cool, the gods gotta compensate you somehow…"_

And then there'd be laughing and giggling like schoolboys and probably a few half-assed punches until Katara would show up and dress us both down for being _stupid fucking boys, gods, what do I even bother?_ And then we'd laugh even more and…and…_and…_

_ No more waiting…_

_**I have to know…**_

_"Sokka?"_

It's a long time before he speaks. He just kind of…_sits there…_sits there and doesn't say a word, just breathes, in and out, in and out, shoulders set, lips thin, mouth drawn into a hard, cold line, his eyes very, very far away.

"Yeah, man?"

_He knows what I'm going to say…_

_ I know what he's going to say…_

_**I still have to say it…**_

_"Where's…where's my uncle?"_

He looks away.

"That's what…that's what _oji_ means, isn't it?"

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can barely _think._

_"Yeah, yeah, that's what oji means…"_

He keeps looking away.

"Yeah, that's we thought…"

Finally, he turns around. He looks at me, focuses everything on my one good, functional, working eye. There are tears in the corners of his, both of them. They shine, they glisten, they dance in the flickering candlelight.

"We…_we didn't find him, Zuko…"_

I nod. I look away.

_I'm trying not to cry…_

_ "How many?"_

_ Pause._

"Counting you, we found…we found…_we found nine…"_

I feel numb. I'm not there. _I've gone far away…_

_ "Which ones…?"_

A deep breath. He lets it out.

"We're…we're not sure. They're all about as banged up as you are, and what Suomi they knew they seem to have forgotten at the moment." He stretches out a hand. I feel its weight come to rest lightly on my chest. "And before you ask, the answer's _no._ Dad's already made it very clear that I'm a dead man if I let you talk me into getting you up to go see them."

I nod, or at least, I think I do. _I can't be sure. I want to…_

_ I want to…_

_ I don't know what I want to do…_

_ "But…"_

He cuts me off. "No _buts_, dude. I'm sorry, but you can barely sit up, much less walk, so no. Just…" His voice catches. It takes a bit for him to get himself under control. _"Just…get better, okay?"_ His voice is pleading. He sounds like a little boy, scared and alone in the dark.

_It's a voice I'm beginning to know all too well, deep down in my soul…_

_ "I know," _I hear myself say. That's it is, me, hearing myself, from far away. _"I know, I know, I…" _Now it's my voice catching, tears burning in my eyes.

I sense him nod, pat my chest, very softly, I barely feel it.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything you need? Say the word, and it's yours."

I don't say anything. I just think. I just think of all the things I want, all the things I need.

_I want my crew back…_

_ I want my boys back…_

_ I want my uncle back…_

_ I want none of this to have ever happened…_

_ I want…_

_ I want…_

_ I want my mommy…_

_**I need Katara…**_

_"I just…I just need to rest, I think…"_

A sigh, very far away.

"That's…yeah, that's good…I'm going to grab a quick bite to eat, and then I'll be right here in the corner, okay? Just…say the word, and I'll get you whatever I can get you, okay?"

I close my eyes.

_"Okay…"_

I want until the door clicks to cry.

* * *

Anyone ever noticed that I tend to beat Zuko with a brick stick in, like, everything I write? It's kind of mean…

So, yeah, that was a bit of a tearjerker. I have to say, though, I really like mature Sokka. Trying to right Canon Sokka is…like…_a pain in the fucking ass._ But then again, so was I, when I was 15/16.

I'm trying to think of something more to say here, and…I dunno. I think this stands on its own. So, on with the show!

In the next chapter, Zuko makes it home, Katara takes over, and then she moves in. Stay tuned!


	44. Chapter 44

43. IF THIS WAS A CHEAP MELODRAMA, THE FIRST TIME SHE SAW ME, LAYING ON THAT STRETCHER, COVERED IN BANDAGES AND LOOKING LIKE ONE OF MY SISTER'S DOLLS, KATARA WOULD'VE LOST HER SHIT. She would've screamed and wailed and burst into tears. She would've pulled at her hair, stomped her feet, ripped her clothes apart, thrown herself on my and poured her heart and her tears out upon me. She would've cried and cried and cried, and somehow, this outpouring of love and grief would've brought me back from the dead and I would've spent the next week making some sort of miraculous recovery.

However, this is not a cheap melodrama, and, well, _Katara is Katara._

She reacted exactly as I knew she would. Later, Toph will tell me all the things she could sense and hear, how Katara's heart literally _stopped_, tripped over itself, how Toph could practically feel it leap up into Katara's mouth and then plummet down into the pit of her stomach. She heard a gasp, a sharp intake of breath, and then she felt Katara shake herself loose and walk calmly towards the men who were carrying me and begin rattling off questions and demanding answers and swatting away the healer who had been caring for me. She waved some of the women over, and had them take my stretcher from the men, and then led her little party over to my old room. She didn't even pause, rattling off more orders as she walked, head held high, step slow and steady, telling one person to go fetch her healing supplies, telling three others to fill up as many buckets as they could from the local Spirit Oasis (which, I'm told, is more a matter of tradition than it being like anything they have in the North, but still, anything that can help), and pressing on.

There was one interesting moment, I'm told, where she rounded on her father when he came up and tried to hug her. Instead, she threw herself into his arms, embraced him, and then, just as quickly, pulled away, fixed her hair, and told him to start getting an actual house ready for me, because the barracks was the _last_ place I need to be.

And to her brother? She just told him to start gathering her things together and bring them to my place, because that's where she was going to be from now on.

The weirdest thing? _No one said a fucking word other than, Yes, of course, right away…_

This was all related to me second-and-third-hand, often in tones of hushed reverence (from other members of the tribe) or through scoffs and snark (_Toph_) or through irritated eye rolls (Sokka) or through a father's kind voice over my apologies (Hakoda, whose refrain will become, _What, you expect me to say __**no**__?_). These stories will never cease to make me smile, as long as I live.

Right up there with the story of how Toph was the one who pretty much lost her shit. But that's a tale for another day…

What was I doing? _Sleeping._ Like I said, this isn't a cheap melodrama, just…_it's just a drama._

Time just kind of…_slides away again_. I don't know how to describe it, I really don't. It's just this…_thing_, that happens. I slip in and out of consciousness. Some days I'm there, others I'm not. Moments, words, entire conversations blend together into one strange, grey, swirling mass. At some point, the comet comes and goes. I remember those days, _kind of_, by the way my blood boils in my veins, by how I have to be given a special drink that dulls my ability to bend, by how those are the days when I spend the most time awake, when I hurt the least.

That's also the time I have my first real fight with Katara. It's not much, really, just a trial of wills. She gives me the bending suppressant, and then she starts to mix up the milk of the poppy to help with the pain. I remember, very vividly, shaking my head and saying, _"No."_

She rounded on me, eyes wide, ice cold fury shining from every pore. _"Excuse me?"_

I shake my head again. Just because the pain is less, doesn't mean that it's not there. It's this dull ache, never enough to blind me, but always just enough to make it hard, hard to move, hard to focus, _hard to think._ It's just…_fucking there._

_ "No. No more pain meds, no more poppy, no more drugs."_

Tears well up in her eyes, which she quickly dashes away. "Mind telling me _why_, exactly?"

I sigh. _"Have you ever seen an opium addict?"_

She shakes her head, jaw set, fists balled, ready for a fight. "No, I haven't. What's that got to do with anything?"

I close my eyes. _"If you had, you'd understand."_

She steps towards me, slow, steady, body trembling with something that isn't even remotely related to anger. _"Oh, I understand perfectly, Zuko."_

I open my eyes. _"You do?"_

She nods, crossing her arms, looking out the window, eyes glistening. "I understand that you're an idiot, and you don't believe in yourself like I do, and you're afraid of…of…" She wipes her eyes, voice beginning to shake. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. _"Look, that's not going to happen to you, okay?_" Another breath, in, out. "I'm not going to fucking _let it happen_, you understand?" She turns back on me, tears falling, eyes blazing. _"So take your goddamn fucking medicine and be __**fucking happy about it!**__"_

I smile, at least, _ think I do._ I'm starting to fade away again. _"I love you, you know that?"_

She smiles, looking unappeased, unconvinced, not of the fact that I love her, but of what I've made clear what I want to do. "I know. I love you, too. That's why I'm going to make you take your medicine, and I'm not going to let you hurt any more than you already do."

These days, when I laugh, it's not a _laugh_ so much as _a strange strangled grunt that echoes vaguely of mirth._ It's about the best I can manage, and it's about the only thing I can do that doesn't make my whole body clench up in pain and that doesn't end with me emptying my stomach into a pale while Katara holds my head and pats my back and tells me it'll be okay.

So, at that moment, when I say that I laugh, that's what comes out. _A weird little series of mirthful grunts._

_ "I'm still not taking any more pain medicine."_

She throws her arms up in the air and stomps her feet and hurls curses at the ceiling, before finally crawling into the bed, like she does every night, like she does during most of the days, and lays her head softly on my shoulder (_never on my chest_) and whispers, in a cracked, shaking voice, _"What am I going to do with you?"_

I chuckle. _"Let me win this one time?"_

She giggles. "Fine. _You win._ But don't come crying to me in a few days when the last of it wears off and you discover just how much pain you're actually in."

I sigh. _"I'm sure I will."_

And I do. _I fucking do._ But I hold strong, I hold firm, no matter how much everyone else begs me to just _take the medicine and stop trying to prove something._ Toph begs, Sokka begs, the few of my remaining crew who are able to move about and come see me beg, even Hakoda comes in and takes my hand and says, _"Son, listen to me, you don't have anything to prove. It's okay to take the medicine."_

But Katara holds firm. I never even get to say anything. She just shakes her head and looks at them with those eyes of hers, _those beautiful, wonderful eyes,_ and tells them all, in no uncertain terms, that my wishes are clear, _so leave him alone._

And they do. _Or, at least, I think they do. _It's all so unclear, so strange, _so foggy._

A whole month passes like that, with me in a fog as the drugs wear off the pain sets in. Every day rolls in and out like a mist at sea. I often feel like my body is filled with sand, that my throat is lined with dull knives, that my brain is a tattered cloak, torn to shreds, tattered and worn. There will be a day I remember with the utmost clarity, and then an entire week that just kind of…_fades away into the fog._ Sometimes I recall things, other times I don't. I have entire conversations I don't remember, and then I have entire conversations that only I seem to take part in, that occur entirely in my head, but seem _so real_, and when I bring them up, others just kind of nod and smile and exchange looks with Katara before patting my hand and telling me _that's nice, Zuko, tell me more?_

And every day, every hour, _every fucking minutes_, Katara's there. She sleeps in my bed, but only when I'm asleep. When I can't sleep, she reads to me, or sings to me, or just talks to me about this and that. She helps me to the bathroom, crawls into the tub and helps me bathe, feeds me until I can finally begin to feed myself. She only washes herself when I'm washing myself, and she only leaves for an hour at a time, to go heal others, and only if Toph or Sokka can sit with me, and even then, only when I'm fast asleep. I don't know where everyone seems to be getting all this time. It's like…it's like…

_Sometimes it's like the entire tribe is revolving around me, but of course, that can't be true. Why would anyone do that?_

After a month, I'm finally able to move around without being half-carried. I have to use a cane, and I have to move slowly, and I'm not allowed to go far. Katara has spent long days and long nights healing me. It's hard to describe how it feels, that cool, stinging warmth, as she presses her hands to my body and wraps them in gloves of glowing water and mutters words I don't really understand. There's pain in those moments, too, especially when she has to work on bones. She spaces the biggest treatments out. It takes a full month to truly fix my ribs, and even then, I'm sore and aching for months afterwards, and I'm forbidden to do heavy lifting, or real work, and I'm expressly forbidden to firebend, no matter how much I want to.

_Not that I would even be able to do it, not with this fucking __**thing**__ on my leg…_

My leg is the worst part. It hurts every day, keeps me awake at night, especially as the rest of my body starts to recover, to heal and to turn back into something resembling a functional human being. But it always comes back to that _stupid fucking leg._

Katara promises that we're going to fix it soon. _I just need to get my strength up._ She says things like that. _It doesn't exactly fill me with confidence._

After about five weeks, I'm finally beginning to return to something approaching normal. I can walk around (_albeit, with a fucking __**cane**__, which I hate, though I guess it's cool, Sokka made it for me_). When my new house is built, Katara even lets me carry a few light things in, though no one will let me touch anything that weighs more than a few pounds. I can breathe. Theoretically, I can sleep through the night. I can carry on conversations. Katara and I begin to resume her lessons. We talk more. I start to see other people more. My favorite parts are the walks, though, slow and sedate, around the village, leaning on my cane with one arm, the other with Katara's arm carefully threaded through, her head on my shoulder, _just existing._

The other people are a little weird, though. I'm not allowed to pay for anything. Women hug me, men bow to me (_when did they all start fucking bowing?_), children pretend to be me during their games. I…I just don't begin to try to understand it. Why me? _Why me?!_ _What makes me so gods-damn special?! _

Whenever I ask Katara these questions, she just shakes her head and kisses me and tells me to stop being an idiot. I still don't understand, but…well…_doctor's orders…_

At the end of the sixth week, I finally look myself in the mirror. It's the first time I've been allowed to make the trip alone. It takes a long time to hobble there, even though it's not ten feet from the bedroom. It's the middle of the night, and I just have to pee. So I hobble in, using the walls for balance, careful not to put any weight on my bum leg, stagger in. I do my business, wash my hands, and then…_and then…_

_ I see the mirror…_

The man who looks back at me does not look twenty-three. He looks…_he looks oh so much older._ His eyes are sunken into his skull, and his face is thick with a scraggly beard. He needs a haircut and a shave and at _least_ an extra twenty pounds. He's lost far too much weight. He looks pale and sickly. Even the left eye, the one that's glassy and milky white, looks _tired._ And the other eye…

_The other eye…_

_ It just looks so fucking __**sad…**_

I don't know where the tears come. I don't know where the screaming comes from. I don't know where Katara comes from. I just know that I'm looking in the mirror, _looking into my soul_, and I'm curled into a ball on the floor and I can't stop crying and Katara's on the floor with me, she's showering me with kisses and stroking my hair and holding my tight and she's promising _never to let me go_ and I just _can't stop crying and I can't stop screaming and I just want to die oh my gods I miss them so much…_

_ I miss him so much…_

_ I just want my uncle back…_

It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be last. There are the dreams, and the nightmares, and the terrors, and the flashbacks, and the shakes, and the loud bangs that make me want to jump out of my skin, and way the slightest thing can plunge me back into darkness. I hate it, the mood swings and anger and the despair and the depression. Sometimes, I can't believe anyone could ever be this happy.

_And then I'm curled in a ball on the floor, crying my guts out, trying not to throw up, while the love of my life holds me close and I don't know who cries harder in those moments, her or me…_

_ Her or me…_

_ Like there's even a difference anymore…_

_ There's only this…_

_ There's only us…_

_ Here in the darkness…_

_ I love her…_

_ But I still want my boys back…_

_ I still want my uncle back…_

_ I ask if that's selfish…_

_ She laughs and tells me of course not…_

If it wasn't for her, I would've slit my own throat a long time ago.

_I know that like I know my name is Zuko…_

_ I know that like I know that I'll never let her go…_

* * *

Wow…that was…that was intense, guys. I really gotta cut Zuko a break pretty soon here. If I don't, I'm going to start hating myself. In fact, I'm starting to think it's time for some fluff. Who's ready for some fluff? _I'm ready for some fucking fluff._

So, yeah, in the next chapter, Zuko asks Sokka to do him a quick favor, nothing big, just, you know, _a really important favor._ Stay tuned!


	45. Chapter 45

45. IT'S BEEN SIX WEEKS WHEN, FOR THE FIRST TIME, I ASK KATARA TO LEAVE THE HOUSE. Sokka has come to visit, but this time, he's come because I stuck my head out of my window and asked Toph (_who pretty much spends most of her days there, keeping up a lively banter, cheering my up, making sure Katara and I never pass a day without a laugh_) to go fetch him. And, of course, _I ask correctly,_ phrasing it in such a way that, you know, Toph, _if you're bored, I bet Sokka's in the middle of something important, wanna go interrupt him for me?_ She agrees immediately, a twinkle in her eyes, and when he comes back, he hugs his sister and then joins us by the fire.

That's where Katara and I are starting to spend a lot of our time now, sitting by that fire. She still won't leave me alone, but when she does leave, she leaves for longer. But when she's there, most of the time we sit there. I'm finally allowed to bend again, so I always light the fire, and we read or talk or laugh or flirt. I cry a lot, and she cries with me, but somehow, there by that fire, it's not so bad…

_Not so bad…_

_ I can see a light at the end of the tunnel, there by that fire…_

And we're not always alone, so when Sokka pops in and takes a seat in one of the spare chairs, Katara settles herself back down, fully expecting to join in on whatever it is I want to chat to Sokka about, because she's a part of everything. _We're kind of a package deal._

_But not this time…_

I clear my throat. A cigarettes burns from between my fingers (_because Katara has allowed me to start smoking again, because she really does love me_), and I take a long, slow puff on it before I turn to Katara with the cutest smile I can muster.

"Hey…um…babe?"

She smiles. "Yes, dear?"

I start to blush. I feel rather awkward. Nothing in my life has prepared me for a moment like this. "Do you think you would mind if…um…well…_if you gave Sokka and I a few minutes…?"_

She doesn't say anything. No one does. Sokka squirms in his chair and I feel heat build under my skin and she arches her eyebrow and makes a soft, low, kind of strangely feminine _grunt_. She looks from me, to Sokka, who just shrugs, and back to me, who just smiles, and finally, without a word, she stands up, walks over, gives me a long, slow kiss that makes her brother gag, and says, "You know, I think I need to go check on something, anyways, I'm glad you reminded me." She gives me a sly wink, pecks her brother on the head, and then she just kind of…_strolls out._

Sokka and I watch her go, before he rounds on me, eyes full of confusion, and says, "Dude, what the fuck?"

I raise my hands in placation. "Look, man, I just need to ask you a favor, okay?"

He hooks a thumb at the door his sister just left through. "By making sure that I get frozen to my bed tonight?"

I chuckle. It's actually close to a real _chuckle._ My laughs and my sighs and my chuckles are still closer to _mirthful grunting_ than anything else (my ribs may be healed, but according to Katara, it'll be a long time before they stop hurting and aching), but at least I'm starting to sound somewhat human. Even my voice has started to lose that strange, crushed glass quality it's had since the battle.

Which doesn't mean that I still don't look a right mess. I'm still too thin (_as every old woman in the village seems fit to remind me at every opportunity_), I still look pale and tired, my left arm is still in a sling, and my right arm still stings, and let's not even get into _the stupid fucking cast on my leg_. But hey, I'm starting to look and sound human again.

_Even if the nightmares and the bouts of depression still come at least once a day, one or the other, sometimes both…_

"Hey," I'm saying, doing nothing to hide how much the thought of my best friend frozen to his bed amuses me, "if anything, I'll be the one she punishes."

He scoffs at that, rolling his eyes and making a jerk-off gesture to show what he thinks of that. "_Please._ So," he continues, letting an intrigued expression settle on his face, "whatcha need, my man?"

I take a deep breath, let it out. I feel the awkwardness welling up out of my stomach, and push it away. _Not now, for fuck's sake._ I purse my lips, chew lightly on the side of my mouth, take a puff of my cigarette, drink some tea, all while Sokka starts to get all antsy and bored and I strain my ears to see if Toph's hiding by the window.

Finally, I decide there's no time like the present, so I speak.

"Look," I say, stubbing out my cigarette and starting to play with the arm of my chair, "when my uncle…" I shake my head, fight the tears, "_when my uncle…_one of the last things he said to me, he made me make him a promise."

Sokka nods slowly, his face sympathetic, his body relaxing in his chair. He doesn't say anything, just waits. This is the Sokka so many people don't get to see, _that he doesn't let them see._ There's a reason why he's my best friend.

"I…I don't know about some parts of that promise. I don't think I'm capable of them, and I don't think Katara is capable of them, but…there's one part that I can fulfill, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and that I fully intend to fulfill."

Sokka's face breaks into a sly grin. "Oh, is that so? Do tell."

I roll my eyes. "Hush. Anyways…look…I was just wondering if you could…um…how good are you at carving?"

He scoffs. "Dude, I'm Southern Water Tribe. We learn how to carve before we learn how to fucking _walk._"

"Heh…good…"

He arches an eyebrow. "Care to tell me why?"

"Well," I admit, grimacing, "mostly because I suck at carving, and there's something very important I think I need to care, and very soon, before I can psyche myself out of it."

He groans and hurls himself back into his chair. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Zuko, what do you think anyone's going to say, _no?_"

I shrug, rub the back of my neck. "I dunno…_maybe?_"

He rolls his eyes. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

I sigh. "Yeah, I know…but I'm a good-looking idiot, apparently, so there's that."

He laughs, points at my face. "It's that fucking scar, man, makes you look all _mysterious_ and _suave._ You have no idea how many girls are praying Katara looks away for long enough for them to snatch you."

I wave this way; to laugh at the idea seems like overkill. "Dude, whatever, you're full of it and you know it. But, anyways, that's not the favor…"

He gives an emphatic nod. "It better not be the fucking favor. You don't have to ask me that."

"Heh…well…you see…you think you could…umm…"

He sighs. "Dude, just spit it out."

"Alright, alright, it's just…well…you think you could find me a purple stone?"

He nods, slow, realization creeping across his face, before he reaches out and pats my knee and says, "Yeah, dude, I think I can manage that."

I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding.

"Good."

_You see, uncle? You always told me to do my best, and that's what I'm going to do. I miss you, I miss you every day, but at least…_

_**At least I can still keep making you proud…**_

I have to look away from Sokka for a moment then, to hide the tears I have to wipe away. He suddenly becomes very interested in the fireplace, because he's a good friend, and a good guy, and…well…

"So," he says, "I've just _got_ to tell you the latest _Toph Drama._ You down for it?"

I smile.

"I'm all ears, dude. All ears."

* * *

See? I told you we were going to get some fluff. _We needed the fucking fluff._ Or, at least, I did. *takes a deep breath* Alright then…

So, why a purple stone? Well, guys, think about it. What do you get when you combine red and blue? _Purple._ I'll let that percolate for a bit. Moving on!

In the next chapter, Zuko and Toph go for a walk, Gran-Gran comes by, and she means well, but Katara still has to put her in her place. Stay tuned!


	46. Chapter 46

46. THE DAY I REALLY KNEW I WAS GOING TO MAKE IT WAS THE DAY THAT KATARA LET ME GO FOR A WALK WITH TOPH. It'd been seven weeks since I'd gotten home, and three weeks since we'd started the walks, and in all that time, the only person I was allowed to go on walks with was Katara. She simply didn't trust anyone else to either be able to take care of me or keep from doing something stupid. With that latter criterion in mind, Toph was most definitively ruled out. That girl is great and all, but the one thing that she simply cannot be trust to do is to not do something stupid, or to refrain from encouraging someone else from doing something stupid.

But then, that day, Toph came by for her visit, and said that it was time I got out of the house without _Sugar Queen there to boss you around_, and instead of rolling her eyes and delivering a flat _no_, Katara shocked us all by nodding, smiling, and saying, "You know what, Toph? You just might be right."

To my eternal shock and awe, Toph's jaw actually dropped open, just about down to the floor, and her eyes went wide and stared at Katara with genuine surprise. She gaped for a few more moments, before hurling herself to her feet, yanking me out of my chair, snatching up my cane and tossing it to me, and quickly pulling me out of the house, shouting, "Thanks, Sugar Queen! You won't regret it! I'll take good care of him!"

To that, all Katara did was grab a book, plop herself down in front of the fireplace, and say, "See that you do, Toph, _see that you do._"

If Toph noticed the underlying threat in those words, she gave it no heed. She just seemed too excited to finally have her big brother all to herself.

Once outside, I had to stop and take a few breaths. Toph rolled her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms and saying, "What, a few weeks as an invalid turn you into a pussy or something?"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Have I ever told you that I love you, Toph? Like, to fucking pieces."

She scoffs. "Of course you do, because I'm Toph. Everyone tells me this. But whatever." She looks around the village, taking in the sights. "So, where do you want to go?"

I scratch my chin, pondering the matter. "Actually, I'm glad you dragged me out today."

She arches an eyebrow. "Oh? Getting tired of Sugar Queen?"

I chuckle. "Actually, oddly enough, _no_. I never thought I'd enjoy being a homebody, but I do. I mean, I wouldn't want to do it all the time, or for life, but…except for the bouts of bitter depression and nightmares and pain, well…it's been nice."

She frowns, reaching up to rub the back of her neck in an incredibly uncharacteristic display of discomfort. "Hey…how are you doing, Sparky? I mean it. We can just go…I dunno…sit somewhere and watch the waves come in, if you like it. Maybe throw some rocks?" Her face lights up, and she adopts a rather innocent expression that makes her look disturbingly like everyone's favorite little granddaughter. "I'll even let you win, because you're all beat to shit and you've had a bad time! You'd like that, right?"

I shake my head, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "I would, yes, but no, that's not what I want to do. I mean, I'm totally going to cash that chip in at some point-"

She groans at this, but waves impatiently for me to go on.

"Heh…yeah…but not today. Today…well…there's two things I want to do that Katara hasn't really let me do."

She frowns. "Why not?"

I sigh, look away. "Because she's worried about me."

Toph grimaces, steps up and, before I know what she's doing, gently wraps her arms around me and holds me close. Into my chest, she mutters, "Sparky, we're all worried about you…"

I shake away my amazement, and return the embrace. _"I know," _I whisper, _"me, too, but I'm going to be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but…I'll be okay."_

She looks up at me, carefully hidden tears in her eyes, and a look on her face that I really don't know what to do with. "You promise?"

I nod, and I smile, and I ruffle her hair. "I promise."

She smiles, pulls away, and wipes her eyes. "Good, because…well…_fuck it._" She takes a deep breath, shakes herself out, and wags a dangerous finger at me. "And if you so much as _think_ about telling anyone that I just hugged you like that, I'm going to fucking kill you, got it?"

I laugh, a real laugh, the first real laugh in far too long, and sigh. "I got it, don't worry. The secret of you being a real human being with real emotions is safe with me, kid."

"Fucking right it is." She gives herself another shake, and then says, "So…you wanna go to the memorial, don't you?"

I look down at the ground, my heart slowing sinking into my stomach. "Yes, yes I do."

I feel her hand slip into mine, and she squeezes quickly before pulling away. "Right on, because that's just what we're going to do."

In the center of the village is a wide, circular expanse, kind of like a town square in the Fire Nation, only much less ornate. This is where much of the village's commerce is conducted, where the market is, where farmers bring in their crops and fishermen bring in their catches and hunters sell their pelts and their extra meat. There are stalls and vendors, and sure, it's nothing compared to even a modest town market anywhere else in the world, but I like it, I really do. I even like how commerce works; there's no money, pure barter. That's just how thinks function here.

Once, the center of this circle was typically left empty. Sometimes, there would be bonfires for celebrations, or it could be turned into an impromptu dance floor during a festival, or you might find a random traveling performance troupe playing a little show for coins.

_That's not what's there now…_

I don't know how describe how I felt, standing there. Before me, someone had taken a simple, wood pole, and shoved it firmly into the ground. Atop this pole, a Fire Nation helmet had been carefully balanced, one of the extras that we left behind before we left…

_Before we left…_

_ Before I came back…_

I shake the thought away, and look at it, _really look at it._ My heart melts into a puddle and dribbles warm and soft, down into my towns. I walk around the makeshift memorial, taking it in. I open the floodgates, the carefully maintained barriers, the controls that I learned to erect, at least in public, through a lifetime of lessons drilled into my skull at the point of a switch or with the back of a hand. The memorial starts with the pole and helmet, but it doesn't end there. In a rough, uneven circle, spreading out at least two or three feet in every direction, is every the Water Tribes have to give, everything they have to offer. There are half-burned incense candles, family heirlooms, charms, idols, some worn and weathered from use, some freshly carved. More flowers than I could ever begin to count are strewn on the ground. Water Tribe swords and spears and boomerangs have been shoved into the ground, laid among the flowers, piled up around the edges. There are bottles of liquor left as offerings, none of them touched, none of them disturbed. There are fruits, vegetables, fresh ones for every one that has begun to fade away into the dust. The few literate members of the tribe has been busy, almost around-the-clock, feverishly writing things that the people wish to say, and these little pieces of paper are pinned to the ground, to the wooden pole, clipped to bushels of flowers. I stop at each one, read each one, and with each one, my heart twitches, my body shakes, my lip trembles…

_Thank you so much for what you did…_

_ We can never repay you…_

_ Rest in peace…_

_ You showed us what honor meant…_

_ You saved us all…_

_ I will never forget…_

_ We will never forget…_

_ You were our friends…_

_ We honor you every day…_

_ The greatest honor of my life was the day I went into battle with you…_

_ Thank you…_

_ Thank you…_

_**Thank you…**_

I wipe the tears away. I don't stop them, don't fight them, just…_I let them come._ It's a soft cry, just tears, no sobbing. I let it out, feel it in my core. Through some quirk of fate, some random act of mercy on the part of the gods, Nakamura, the artist, the gentle soul, he survived. He was fished out of the sea, and he has spent the past seven weeks drawing portraits of every one of them, every single one we lost. I look…_I look…_

_ There…_

Toph has to help me to my knees, but I get there. She kneels down beside me, and I pull her in, she returns the side-hug, and we laugh and we smile and we cry. We talk for a long time, or at least it feels like a long time, about my uncle, about my boys, and when it's time to stand up and go, well…

"So, Sparky," she says, voice hesitant, "how do you feel?"

I sigh. "I feel…I feel alright, Toph. I feel alright."

She smiles and socks me (_very, __**very**__ lightly_) in the side. "Good, because I would've felt like a real fuckwad if this had just driven you over the edge or something."

I shake my head, chuckling, still wiping tears from my eye. "No, Toph, it's all good. It's…it's all good."

She nods. "Good. So, I take it you want to see your boys now?"

I sigh. "Or what's left of them…"

That…_that was hard…_ The second I walked into the old barracks, saw them sprawled about, _all fucking eight of them_, in various states of disrepair or recovery, well…_I lost it._ I fell in a heap on the floor and cried and cried and _cried_, and said the same things over and over again. _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be here, I should've stayed behind, __**I'm so fucking sorry…**_

And before I knew it, eight men, some of them as crippled as me, were huddled on the ground with me, and their arms were around me, and they were sobbing right along with me, along with me and each other and little, petite, tough as nails Toph, who burrowed into the center of the group and cried the loudest out of all of us, and, when the crying was done, was the first to leap up on a bed and lead us all in my uncle's favorite dirty drinking song.

It hurt, every minute of it. It hurt and it ached and I don't think…_I don't think that pain is ever going away._ I'll never, _ever_, forgive myself for coming back, for surviving when so many of my boys didn't, _when my uncle didn't_, but, finally…well…they can do it. If they can do it, my boys, then I can do it.

We're all that's left. _We have to stick together._ And we're going to. _And that means everything._

_ My boys…_

_ I'm so sorry…_

_ I'll make you proud…_

_ My friends and I? __**We're going to fix this world.**_

_** This is **__**never**__** going to happen again…**_

It's a little after noon by the time we leave the barracks, but that doesn't mean that Toph and I aren't…well…_staggering a little bit._ I don't know _how_ my boys managed to save some _sake_, but they did, and…well…_we might have downed the whole bottle_, all while singing and laughing and crying and hugging and throwing every single definition of _manly_ as we had been raised to know it out the window. We shared memories and had more cries and then, finally, it was time to go, because my girl was expecting me, and Toph had promised to get me home, and they raised a few raucous cheers and asked when the wedding was and, to my chagrin, demanded I lead them in a toast to _the only Fire Lady we ever intend to have_, which Toph got a _huge_ kick out of and made clear that she would tell Katara _at length_ at the first available opportunity.

So, when I finally made it back home, and invited Toph in for a drink and a smoke and some laughter, I was in…well…_what passed for a good mood for me at the time._ I was going home, I was with one of my best friends, we were totally going to scrounge up Sokka to join us, and my girl and would be all _cute_ and we would be mocked and who knows?

_Maybe we'd start going over our plan to save the world again…_

So, imagine my surprise, when Toph and I lurched in the door to find Katara in a full blown, albeit very restrained, argument with her grandmother.

I immediately shook all my feels and lack of sobriety away, and Toph and I both straightened our backs and gave respectful bows (_though mine, for obvious reasons, left a lot to be desired_). As soon as they noticed us, Katara's face broke into a smile, while Kanna's face…well…

_Huh…this could be…huh…_

Katara immediately came over to us. She hugged Toph and told her she knew where to go, and then she wrapped her arms around me and kissed me soft and sweet and was about to ask me about my morning when we heard the very distinct clearing of a throat. Katara turned back to her grandmother, and, well…

_Any lingering drunkenness was quickly abolished…_

"This," Kanna said, jabbing her cane into the ground, "is _exactly_ what I was talking about."

Katara disentangled herself from me, and marched back over to her grandmother, her arms crossed, and her expression…well…

_Eep…_

Seeing my chance to stay out of it, I quickly made my way over to my chair, where Toph was expectantly waiting with a cigarette in her mouth. I lit it for her, then lit my own, and we both proceeded to do our best to become inconspicuous.

"And," Katara was saying, "this is also exactly what I was talking about."

Kanna arched an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Katara sighed. I could she was struggling very hard to maintain her composure. "That it's _none of your business._"

Kanna gasped. "_Excuse me?! _My granddaughter, _my only granddaughter_, is living with a boy _she's not married to_, and it's not my business?"

Katara nodded, smiling. "I'm glad you understand."

Kanna shook her head, groaning, her palm to her forehead. "Look…Katara…I understand, I do. He's a nice boy-"

"He's an amazing _man._"

"Alright, and he's done a lot for our people-"

"He's done _everything_ for our people, _given _everything for our people."

"And I'm not disputing that, but that is absolutely _no excuse_ to…to…_live like this!"_

"What, live with the man I love, and that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with?"

"_But you're not married."_

Katara sighed. "Not _yet_, Gran-Gran, not _yet_."

"_Yet doesn't matter_, my dear. It just…_doesn't._ What if…_what if something happens?"_

Katara giggled. "It won't, Gran-Gran. Trust me."

Kanna gaped a bit at that, her mouth opening and closing, while Toph continued to sink into her chair while I wished that my injuries allowed me to. Finally, Kanna just shook her head and said, in a pleading tone, "Look, Katara, will you at least consider how this looks?"

"Hmm," Katara replied, tapping a finger to her lips, "last I checked, the only person who has a problem is _you_."

"And that doesn't say much! How do you think I feel, that your father and your brother are just…_okay with this?_ When they should be the ones dragging you out of here!"

Katara scoffed. "I'd like to see them _try._"

Kanna took a deep, calming breath, before going on.

"Look, my dear, I understand, I do, but there are traditions to be observed, traditions and values and culture and-"

"Like not running away from your engagement because you wake up one morning deciding that the man you've been arranged to marry just isn't to your liking?"

I'm not sure how to describe the silence that follows. It is…_solid._ It has body and weight and heft and structure. It is a living, breathing, _thing._ But it's not difficult to endure, or anything, because, somehow, I see the look on the faces of the combatants, and see, once again, that no victory has been scored, _because there was never really a contest._

Finally, Kanna just sighs and says, "Look…just…promise me you'll get married at some point, okay? Can you do that for an old woman?"

Katara sighs, says, "We'll get married when we want to, but we won't promise anything. Now," she steps forward, and carefully gently wraps her arms around her grandmother, "still love me?"

Kanna sighs and returns the embrace. "Of course I do, dear. That's why I came here and said what I said."

Katara kisses her softly on the forehead. "I know, Gran-Gran. And that's why I love you, too."

Kanna sighs once more, pats her granddaughter on the back, and as they pull away, I see the look in the old woman's eyes, the love and the warmth and the approval, and my heart…

_My heart aches…_

_ But today, for once, not in a bad way…_

_ I miss you, uncle…_

_ I really do…_

And then Kanna looks at me, and I see her eyes settle on me, and I see…I see…

_Is that…love…warmth…affection…respect…__**approval?!**_

Yeah, right? Toph felt it, too, as I could see by the look on the girl's face.

Yeah, I'm not sure what to make of that, either.

But…it was what convinced me to officially rule that day…

_A good day…_

* * *

Many things here! One, we got Toph! We needed Toph! And we had some feels, sure. Of course we did. Zuko's got hardcore survivor's guilt, and what is going to be one hell of a case of what we would call PTSD. But…he's going to be alright, for the same reason anyone gets through that. Not because he's _strong_ or any bullshit like that, no, because he's got love, support, affection, and people who care about him and would do anything for him. Without that, his strength would mean very little. He's going to make it through, though, if not for himself, for them.

_And because that's what his uncle would want…_

And the bit with Kanna? That was just for fun. Also, somewhat similar to a…ahem…_discussion_ my fiancée had with her mother not too long ago. _It went about the same way._ Love you, babe!

In the next chapter (which will definitely be tomorrow, the girl needs attention), Hakoda comes to see Zuko, and gives him the news everyone wants, even as no one wants it: The war is over.

Fun Fact: _Fuckwad_ was not considered by my Microsoft Word program to be a word. I have fixed that oversight.


	47. Chapter 47

47. I'M DOING DISHES WHEN HAKODA COMES TO SEE ME. The mere idea of it is unspeakably domestic, I know, but the truth is, I enjoy the domestic things. I never really thought I would, and, like I told Toph, I don't think I'd enjoy being forced to do it for life (at least, right now), but…_it's nice._ I just…_like helping out._ Katara does too much for me as it is (_at least, that's how I feel about it; more than once, she's pointed out that the only one who thinks I do too little is me, but I am what I am_), so, whenever I can, I help out around the house. I do most of the cleaning up, I pretty much always do the dishes, I do the laundry when she lets me, and, when I'm sneaky, I even cook, no matter how much my process for cooking drives Katara up a wall.

So, yeah, that's where I am, in the kitchen (_or what passes for a kitchen; it's a small house, one bedroom, one sitting room, tiny kitchen, tiny bathroom, smaller than my old room at the palace, but, still, I like it_), washing and drying dishes and pots and pans, thinking about what I should whip up for lunch, when I hear a soft knocking on the door. Without looking up from my task, I call over my shoulder, "It's open! Come in!" The door opens, the door closes, and I finish the current dish I'm on before tossing the hand towel over my shoulder and turning to greet the source of the heavy footsteps coming into the house.

"You know," Hakoda says, grinning kindly as he watches me hobble out of the kitchen, "here in the Southern Water Tribes, that's considered women's work."

I shrug, smiling back. "Yeah, well, I like to do stuff. Plus, your daughter's never been one for sticking steadfastly to tradition."

He chuckles. "Yes, that's true. She is…one of a kind, my Katara is."

"She is, indeed, sir." I draw myself up, and give a very proper bow, as one would to one's father-in-law. "A pleasure to greet you this fine morning, sir."

He rolls his eyes and laughs, giving a little bow of his head in return. "One of these days, young man, I'm going to get you to stop calling me _sir._"

I give a lazy, light-hearted shrug. "We'll see about that, sir." I gesture at the chairs in front of the fire place. "Care to have a seat?"

"Don't mind if I do." He easily settles into the chair that he has come to think of as _his_, sighing happily as I sink into the chair that has somehow come to be _mine._ This wasn't the first time Hakoda had come by, and I doubted that it would be the last, though I'm pretty sure it was the first time that him and I had found ourselves alone. Normally, Katara was here, or Sokka, or Toph, or some combination of the three, or, just the day before, Nakamura, with whom I had spent the previous afternoon going over sketches of something I was having him design.

Today, though, it was just the two of us. Just Hakoda and me, him calmly preparing his pipe, me calmly pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. I lit his pipe, and we puffed in silence, contemplating each other.

He spoke first, taking the stem out of his mouth and pointing it at the cast that I was beginning to suspect I'd never get rid of. "So, tomorrow's the big day, eh?"

I grimace at the idea. I hate the cast, I do, and I _definitely_ had the feeling of things slipping and sliding around inside my skin, but the fact is…well…if I was looking forward to tomorrow, I'd be crazier than my sister. "Yes," I reply, voice soft and hesitant, "I'm afraid it is."

There's a beat of silence, and then Hakoda gives out a nervous chuckle. "Nervous?"

"Heh…" I rub the back of my neck, ignoring the way my scar twitches and my right leg throbs. "Well…yeah. Anything that calls for a leather strap that you get to bite down on isn't exactly something to look forward to."

He nods sagely, putting the pipe back in his mouth and taking a few easy puffs. "That's true…I've seen healers fix broken bones before, and it's never pretty." A long, heavy pause follows, while he carefully picks his words. "You know, you could put yourself and the rest of us at ease if you'd just…well…agree to take something for the pain."

I sigh, lean back in my chair, propping my injured leg up on a little footrest that Sokka had made for me, a kind of showcase of his carving skills. _So, that's what this visit is for…_

"I'm afraid…that's not possible, sir…"

He nods some more (_is it just me, or is he nodding a lot…_), puffing away. "Yes, I was afraid you'd say that…" He raises a hand, an apologetic look on his face. "Don't think for a second that I don't respect what you're doing." He chuckles. "You're a braver man than I, Zuko, but, that said…"

"Yes, I know," I reply, trying not to sound peevish, "I'm being foolish. But…well…" I struggle for words for a bit, waving my hand through the air, before settling on, "It's just something I have to do." I let the rest echo in the room unsaid, words given size and weight and body only through the dust swirling around in the early afternoon light.

_I don't trust myself…_

_ I don't want to give myself that crutch…_

_ Artificial oblivion is too tempting…_

_ It would be too easy to float away and never come back…_

_**I'm afraid the nightmares would stop…**_

Katara's voice echoes in my ears, like it always does. She could be at the other end of the village, and yet, all I have to do is tilt my head and she's wherever I am, with me, head nestled into my shoulder, hair tickling my nose, fingers entwined with mine, her words soft and warm and I can almost feel her lips against mine.

_If you believed in yourself like I do, you wouldn't be afraid…_

And in my mind, I laugh and press my face into her hair and kiss the top of her head.

_Ah, but if I believed in me, where would I find the time to believe in you?_

And she giggles and scrunches her nose at me and says, _You and your lines…_

_ You love me…_

_ I do…_

Hakoda is sighing. His sigh is heavy and resigned and shot through with this strange aura of paternal affection that he always assumes when he's around me. It's always in his sighs and in his voice and in his words, an almost surreal twitch at the edge of his movements, a tingle deep in his muscles when he clasps my hand or pats my shoulder. I don't understand it, I really don't, and when I ask Katara, she just rolls her eyes and calls me an idiot.

"Well," he says, still sighing, "if my daughter sees fit not to press you on it, I won't. You're a grown man, and it's not my place to tell you how to live."

I tilt my head, shooting him the kind of look I spent the first eighteen years of my life wishing I could shoot at my own father.

"I would think that, if anyone has a right to tell me how to live, it's you."

He shakes head, chuckling. "Maybe in the Fire Nation, Zuko, but not here, and besides, if anyone's earned the right to live how they choose, it's you."

That now familiar sensation springs forth in my chest, a hot, buzzing tightness, a shudder that ripples up and down my spine. I feel warm, uncomfortable, like my skin is just a size too small. I shift around in my chair, looking everywhere but at Hakoda, and I feel the sudden urge to get up and start walking around, to grab something to play with, to be anywhere but here.

"I wish you all would stop saying things like that…"

My voice is a low mutter; even I can barely hear it. Somehow, though, Hakoda understands. _He always understands._ He just gives his strange nod, that bizarre combination of _The Chief_ and _The Father_, and says, "And you always wonder why I like you."

I look up at him, see his thin, warm smile, and it's hard not to smile back. "What do you mean?" I say, arching an eyebrow.

He bats the question away. "Don't worry about it." He takes a deep breath, lets it out, then he's laying his pipe on a small table by the chair (_Sokka really has been working around the clock, carving and assembling away_) before clasping his hands together and leaning forward, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. "It is…I'm afraid…not what I came talk to you about."

My body goes cold just then. For the first time, I really look at Hakoda, look at him and see the signs. I see the nervous twitch in the corners of his face, the way his eyes dart around, the sad, tired way his body moves, like there's a delay in his mind telling his limbs what to do. I lean forward, stub out my cigarette, blow the last breath of smoke out from my nostrils, and settle back into my chair.

_It's come…_

I wait. He doesn't take long.

"Do you remember…" He pauses, inhales and exhales once more, eyes fixed on his hands, his fingers twirling into and around each other. "Do you remember…there was a conversation we had…or, _tried to_, on the ship, when we were coming back from the battle…"

I shake my head, feeling somehow inadequate. "I'm…I'm not sure. There's a lot from those early days…there's a lot I don't quite remember, or, at least, _don't remember well._ The things that seemed real turned out to be dreams, and the things that seemed to be dreams often turned out to be real."

He nods, frowning, face grim. "I can imagine. Well…we had a long conversation, you and I, or, at least, a long conversation broken up over several days. We talked about…"

He stops there, visibly fumbling for words. Broken snatches, torn from the fog I used to exist in, the swirling, endless fogged, threaded with flashing lights and bright red pain and endless blackness, always threatening to swallow me whole. Voices, mumbled, fading in and out of my comprehension. The words are there, I reach into the fog and pluck the tangible ones out. The picture they paint is one of fragments, dots of color splattered across a blank canvas, but in the white spaces pale grey lines emerge, whispers of what happened, before I came back to the land of the living.

"We talked about seeking terms." I don't ask, I just say it.

He nods. "We did. You advised me on how best to ask for them." He finally looks up at me, eyes very worn, and very sad, almost washed out, and for the first time in the year I've known him, he looks his age. "That…I have to admit, that was the hardest decision I ever had to make, the hardest thing I or any of the other chiefs had to do, to put that delegation together and send them to the Fire Nation. We knew it had to be done, but…it was still had to do…"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Trust me, I know. You should try asking my father for a new pair of boots."

The look he gives me shocks me. His eyes blaze to life, full of fire and anger, and when he speaks, it's almost a snarl.

"Don't you dare call him that, not in front of me, and definitely not in front of yourself." He pulls his hands apart, levels a furious finger at me. "That…that…_monster_, doesn't deserve to have the right to call you his son, and he _definitely_ doesn't deserve the honor to have you call him your father."

I flinch at those words. I really don't know what to say. I just nod and bow my head and mutter, _"But he is…"_

Hakoda sighs, leans back in his chair. "Not in any of the ways that count, Zuko. _Not in any of the ways that count."_

More silence. Outside, the world goes on. Whatever news Hakoda has, it feels like he's come to see me first. Somewhere, I hear laughing children, running and jumping and playing in the streets. Birds sing, old ladies gossip, old men talk about the weather. Toph's giggles of glee float along on the wind; she could be outside the window, or on another continent, and for a moment, I wonder if she's tormenting Sokka again. _Probably._

But here, in the house, there's only silence.

"Thank you, sir." It's all I can think to say. "You have…you'll never know how much it means to hear you say that…"

He leans forward, pats my knee. "Just continue being a good man to my daughter, and we'll call it even."

I chuckle at that. "Like she'd let me be anything else."

He tilts his head, smiling. "True." Then he leans back, and the smiles gone, and he opens his mouth and closes it, and repeats the process several times. I can practically hear the gears turning and shifting and clicking in his skull. _I can almost see them._

Uncharacteristically, I decide to break the silence. "You've come to terms."

He doesn't nod, or sigh, or do anything. All he says is, "I'm afraid we have."

I take a deep breath, push down the fear of what he's going to say, begin to wonder how quickly Katara and I can pack our things and be gone, where her and Toph and maybe Sokka and I should go from here. The idea of leaving alone doesn't even enter my mind, not least because, if Katara suspected that the genesis of the idea had ever even _tried_ to exist…well…she'd kill me.

"So," I say, feeling very uncomfortable at having the initiative in the conversation, "what are…ahem…what are the terms?"

He sighs once more, reaches down, picks up his pipe, lets me relight it. I take the opportunity to light a fresh cigarette, and puff steadily and nervously as he speaks.

"Well…it turns out you were right, they aren't as bad as they could have been. Our very poverty as a people, it seems, has finally had a use. The Fire Lord has decided, in his _magnanimity_," this word he says with a snarl, spitting it out like it was something foul and poisonous, "that we are simply not worth any more trouble. He feels that he taught us our lesson at the Battle of Patola, and that he sees no reason why the fact that his _fool of an admiral_ – which, by the way, were his very words – bungled the operation should force him to give our people so much as an ounce of extra thought."

"Well," I say, smiling shyly, "at least I managed to accomplish that much."

He arches an eyebrow. "Not a fan of Zhao the Butcher, I take it?"

"Heh…I'm pretty sure the only person who was a fan of _Zhao the Fool_ was himself."

He nods. "True. So…the terms…"

I don't say anything, just puff away and let him speak, listen quietly while he recites the humiliation of his people in a calm, mechanical tone.

"First and foremost, we are to acknowledge him and his descendants as our overlords, as, if you can believe this, _the Phoenix King._ We are to pay a yearly tribute, thankfully in things like fur and fish, which we can manage. We are submit to regular inspections, to make sure we're not capable of waging war, and we are to promise that we will no longer train our waterbenders in offensive bending. We are forbidden direct contact with our northern cousins, and can only communicate with them through the Fire Nation. Whenever a chief dies, his replacement will have to be approved by a Fire Nation viceroy, who will be given the right to oversee all of this, and make sure we're obeying. But," he says, raising a hand, "this is where the fact that the Fire Lord thinks so little of us comes into play, so long as we submit to all this, bow and scrape and pay our taxes – which apparently won't be much, a token sign of submission, because we're not worth the trouble – as long as we play by the rules, we won't have to endure a garrison, like they do in the North and in the Earth Kingdom."

I heave a sigh of relief. "Well, that's something, at least."

He nods. "It is, actually. It means we can get away with a lot, so long as we put on a good show."

"So…has the treaty been approved?"

He shakes his head. "Not yet. There's going to be a conclave of all the chiefs in three weeks' time, and we're going to vote on it there."

"Will they approve?"

"Oh, trust me, we'll agree to the terms. We'll argue and shout and scream and let off some steam, but, in the end, we'll put our marks on that gods-damn dotted line." He hangs his head, the shame rolling off of him in waves. "They're the best terms we could hope for, and far better than we expected. We can't withstand another assault like the last one, everyone knows that, not unless we get lucky again, which won't happen."

I sigh, and now it's my turn to lean forward, lay my hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, Hakoda, I really am."

He shakes his head and brushes my hand away. "I thought my daughter said she was working on that annoying habit of yours, saying sorry for things that aren't your fault."

I lean back, shrugging. "Old habits die hard, sir."

He rolls his eyes. "Gods save me." He sighs, pinches his nose. "You know, this is all my fault."

I arch an eyebrow. "What is, sir?"

He gives a chuckle that's half laugh, half lament. "I asked them, long ago, for a good, humble son-in-law." He shakes his head and turns an amused eye at me. "Who would've thought they'd listen?"

I shrug. "Could be worse. You could've gotten some kid from the Inupiat tribe."

He gives a rather theatric shudder. "Gods forbid. Wouldn't _that_ be just my luck."

For the uninitiated, the Yuupik tribe and the Inupiat tribe (_the tribe my friends and I would have to visit some day in the near future_) have a centuries-long feud with each other, during which many insults had been hurled and more than a little blood had been spilled, as if the two tribes were determined to show that the Fire Nation wasn't the only county where hot heads could find ways to bash against each other.

Which was beside the point, because Hakoda was dodging, and we both knew it. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and he said nothing, and I realized that I was going to have to save him.

_What an unusual conversation this has been…_

"So," I finally say, looking down at my cast, "what about me?"

He sighs. "You won't have to leave us."

When I look up, I'm shocked to see he's not smiling, because I sure as hell am. _I get to stay!_ The elation that wells up inside me is strong enough to pop me like a cork off a bottle of wine. _I get to stay!_ How could I not be happy? I get to stay in the only place that has ever truly felt like home to me, I get to stay and build a life with the woman I love and be with my friends and…and…_and…_

_ Why isn't he smiling?_

"Is there something more?"

He nods, and he looks very sad.

"The Fire Lord only asked one thing: That you formally renounce your claim to the throne, formally renounce your status as a Fire Nation citizen, and promise never to set foot in your homeland again."

It's hard not to laugh, it really is. Somehow, I manage, choking out the words, "Fuck, is that all?"

He arches an eyebrow, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

I blow out a gust of air, stub out my cigarette, run my hands down my face. "I mean…gods…I bet he doesn't even remember…"

He frowns. "Remember what?"

"Heh…it'd be funny if it wasn't so sad…I already had to do all of that."

He's confused, and he looks it. "What do you mean?"

"When I was banished," the laughter is pretty strong now, it's getting nearly impossible to contain it, "when I was banished, I…well, all of that was stripped from me. I was removed from the line of succession, I was stripped of my citizenship, I was forbidden to come home…_all of it._"

His face brightens; he's starting to get the joke. "Really?"

I nod, smiling. _"Really."_

He lets out a gust of air to mimic my own, and hurls himself back in his chair, shaking his head, eyes amazed. "That's…so, the Fire Lord has demanded you to give up what he's already taken away."

"Heh…pretty much."

He's still shaking his head, and a smile is forming on his face that seems to be slowly inching its way up towards his eyes. "Well, then…that makes things easier on you, I imagine."

I finally laugh at that, short and sharp. "You've got that right! Just tell me if there's anything to sign, and I'll sign it." I snap my fingers. "_Done._"

He nods slowly, his smile fading. "Done…"

I breathe in, breathe out. "So, that's it, then?"

He looks up at me. "That's it. The war's over. We lost."

I look away.

"Everybody lost in this war, sir."

He scoffs.

"There has never been a war where that wasn't true by the end, Zuko."

Those words stay with me for a long, long time. I've never been quite able to shake them away.

* * *

Well, guys, that's it! The war is over, and Ozai won. There's nothing to do now except roll over and accept it, right?

Right?

_Right?!_

*rolls eyes* Fuck that, of course. Like our Fearsome Foursome are going to just give in. _Please._

Where's Katara during this chapter? Doing her thing, you know, healing, bossing her brother and Toph around, chilling with girlfriends, leading waterbending lessons, you know, all that jazz. Girl's got shit to do, beyond just be cute with her boyfriend.

Also, sorry for the fact that there was, like, such a delay in updating today. I was feeling really fucking lazy this morning. *shrugs* It happens to the best of us.

In the next chapter, Zuko finally gets his leg fixed, only it sucks, and he's pretty sure he's gonna pass out. Stay tuned!


	48. Chapter 48

48. THE NEXT MORNING DAWNS BRIGHT AND EARLY, AT LEAST AT MY HOUSE. Katara wakes me out of a dead sleep, and what follows is long and passionate and leaves us both covered in sweat and gasping for breath. When it's done, she bends water out of some buckets prepared for just this occasion into the bathtub, and after I heat the water, we slip in and scrub each other clean, which, due to distractions, takes just long enough for me to be called on to heat the water again. We dry ourselves off and get dressed and sit down for long, simple breakfast, which she lets me cook, because I won't be moving around much for a while. Then, we move our chairs outside and smoke and hold hands, watching the sun crawl across the sky, while she reads to me. I love it when she reads to me. She's gotten absurdly good at it. Her favorite thing to read is poetry, especially in Nihongo. She likes the way she doesn't have to worry about syntax or grammar, and enjoys listening while I explain how the choice of characters is important, how the different characters interact with each other across the lines.

At some point, Sokka joins us, followed shortly by Toph. They settle down on the ground before us, and Sokka impresses us all with his surprisingly ability to form _haikus_ in Suomi. The format really shouldn't work; most _haikus_ are damn near untranslatable, but, somehow, the man's a genius at the form. I, of course, suck at _haikus_; my attempts at spontaneous composition are comically pathetic.

Katara likes them, though. After every attempt, she gives me a peck on the cheek and squeezes my hand and tells me how much she enjoyed it, right before she proceeds to join her brother in out-shining me. And trust me, Toph gets _exactly_ as much pleasure out of the exercise as one would suspect.

And then silence falls and we all take a deep breath and we know that it's time to stop stalling and get things done.

My boys have set up a bed in my old room in the now abandoned officers' barracks for us to use. My boys are waiting outside as we go in. Several of them have had similar procedures performed on them over the past two months, and the look in their eyes tells me everything I need to know about what's about to happen. None of us speak to each other, we just walk into my old room and lay me down on my old bed. Everything has been washed and cleaned. There's a big bucket of ice cold water from the tribe's Spirit Oasis on the floor by the bed, and on the wall is a picture of my uncle, drawn up by Nakamura years ago, tacked gently and nearly into place. I take it all in, breathing in and out, in and out. Finally, I look at the bed.

There are thick, leather straps on it.

_I know exactly what they're for…_

The first thing is that happens is that Katara gives me a big mug of tea. It tastes thick and horrid. I haven't had to take this kind of tea for quite some time, but now, it's very necessary. We wouldn't want me to set the place on fire by accident, now, would we?

Before I lay down, I bow to the picture of my uncle. I pray for his spirit, and those of my cousin and my aunt and my mother to watch over me, to give me strength. With the last, rapidly fading powers available to me, before the special tea takes hold, I light a stick of incense that I brought with me and set it neatly on a random table underneath my uncle's picture. I bow to him once more, then I let Sokka lead me to the bed.

Sokka and Toph secure the straps, while Katara begins performing gathering forms in the empty space of the room. They're strange gathering forms, unlike any that I've normally seen her doing. They're very contained, very controlled, as if she's gathering energy, not to expel out at an opponent, but to hold within herself. The more energy she gathers, the more the water in the bucket begins to glow. The temperature seems to drop. It's a mild, slightly warm day outside, but I feel like I'm about to start shivering. Sokka shrugs on a thick coat, while Toph pulls a knit cap down around her ears. They slip on gloves and then take their positions, Sokka at the head of the bed, Toph to my side.

I lay my head back upon the mattress. The headboard has been carefully padded. My teeth are chattering. Katara is continuing to move, only now she's gathering energy over me. It feels like my chi is flowing out of my body, congealing in my right leg, leaving the rest of me feeling empty and cold. My heart is hammering away in my chest. It feels like it will burst out of me at any moment. I half suspect that they can see it, see it thumping away inside me, struggling to get out, to escape.

Katara stops, her arms spread, her face grim, set, determined. She looks up at me, her eyes full of unshed tears. She wants to kiss me, to hold me, to make all of this, everything that happened, go away. I know this, all without her having to say a word. I look at her, with my one good eye, and I say it all back to her, without moving my lips.

She nods. She smiles.

"I love you, Zuko. You know that, right?"

I smile back.

"I know. I love you, too."

She doesn't ask me if I'm ready. She doesn't have to. She nods at her assistants. Sokka reaches down, places a leather strap in my mouth. I bite down on it, _hard_, so hard that I'm certain I'll break it, or at least break my jaw, but neither gives way. I feel his hands reach down, feel his weight settle on my shoulders. Toph gives me a kind look, lays herself across my torso, reaches down and tightens the straps on my thighs.

_Silence._ Nothing moves, nothing breathes. I can't look, but I somehow see, feel, _sense_ the glow in the room grow stronger. All the windows are shut, and the room feels very stuffy. I can't stop thinking about how much my nose itches. I consider asking Sokka to scratch it for me, until I remember that I have a leather strap in my mouth. I want to laugh at my own absurdity, but I'm too terrified to even blink.

The glow is moving. I can feel it coming. It feels hot as fire and cold as ice, all at the same time. In my mind's eye, I watch Katara move it through the air, directing it with careful, delicate, tightly controlling gestures. It wraps itself around my leg. _I can feel it._ It's so hot, hotter than the fire that burned my face, but so cold, colder than my father's eyes. _So hot, so cold. _

And then…

_And then…_

_ I feel her hands…_

_ Her hands are resting on my leg…_

_ Her hands…_

_ The hands I know so well…_

_ The hands I love so much…_

My mind flashes, on one of those bizarre tangents it goes on, back to that cheap melodrama I keep imagining in my head. In that strange little play, her hands would be shaking. Tears would be pouring from her eyes. Either that, or I would've been miraculously cured by now.

_Or something…_

_ Anything but…_

_ Her fingers are moving…_

_ Her hands are moving…_

_**Something shifts…**_

_** Gods…**_

_** GODS…**_

_** IT HURTS…**_

_I begin to pray…_

_ I mutter prayers into the strap…_

_ Agni preserve…_

_ Agni defend…_

_ Agni forgive…_

_ I begin twitching…_

_ I don't want to, but I can't help it…_

_ Sokka presses down harder…_

_ Toph holds me tighter…_

_ Tears begin to pour out of my eye…_

_ Things are shifting, moving, fusing together in my leg…_

_ It…_

_ Nothing has ever hurt as bad as this…_

_ It hurts…_

_**It hurts…**_

_** IT REALLY FUCKING HURTS!**_

_I'm screaming…_

I'm screaming into the strap. My teeth ache from the force I'm applying into it. I focus on that, focus on the ache. The ache is almost pleasant, no, it _is_ pleasant, compared to the pain radiating in red hot, ice cold waves up from my leg. I can't feel Katara's hands anymore. They've vanished from my sense, vanished into a sea of pain.

_The sea of pain…_

The glow is growing stronger. It's almost blinding in its brightness. It's like the sun has risen, bright and blue, here in this lonely little room. Someone's shouting. _Hold him! Keep him still! _I don't know who it is. Sokka's shifted so that he's lying over my chest, one arm wrapped around my head, keeping me from thrashing about. Toph's wrapped even tighter around me, arms fast around my thighs. The bed is bucking and jumping.

_Screaming…_

_ Crying…_

_ Surely that can't all be me…_

_ So hot…_

_ So cold…_

_**So hot…**_

_** So cold…**_

_** Moving…**_

_** Shifting…**_

_** PAIN…**_

_Agni preserve…_

_ Agni defend…_

_ Agni forgive…_

_**Agni preserve…**_

_** Agni defend…**_

_** Agni forgive…**_

I feel a hand on my head. It's soft and cool. It glides over the sweat that blankets my brow, plasters my hair to my face. It pats my forehead softly. I open my eye. I see…

_I see…_

_ My uncle…_

_ He's smiling…_

_ He looks so young…_

_ I'm sorry…_

_ I'm so sorry…_

_ He shakes his head, clucking his tongue…_

_ Oh, Zuko, don't worry about that, worry about yourself for once…_

_ I shake my head, or maybe I'm still just trying to thrash about…_

_ But…I let you down…I left you behind…_

_ He laughs…_

_ Funny, I seem to remember that I was the one who threw you overboard…_

_ I'm crying…_

_ I should've stayed…_

_ I'm so sorry…_

_ He tut-tuts at me, leans down, kisses my forehead, like he used to do when I was a boy…_

_ Hush, now, it's okay, it's okay to be alive, don't worry about me for a second, I'm in a good place now, and I'll be waiting for you, but I'm a patient old man, so, please, take your time…_

_ I'm shaking my head, crying, screaming…_

_ But…but…I'm so sorry…_

_ He sighs, in that way he did, and he smiles, in that way only he could…_

_ What did I just tell you? Don't worry about that, it's all going to be alright, trust me, you just keep being the good man that you are, and don't you worry about little old me, just promise me that you'll someday let go of this guilt you're carrying around, and marry that girl already…_

_ I'm nodding, I'm crying and I'm nodding and I'm still screaming…_

_ I'll try…I'll try…I promise…_

_ He pats my head once more, one, two, three…_

_ That's a good boy, now, close your eyes, a man needs his rest, and, please, never forget…_

_**I'll always be proud of you…**_

_I close my eyes..._

_ Darkness falls…_

_ Darkness shot through with a bright blue glow…_

_ Thing shifting, moving, fusing in the dark…_

_ And…_

_ I…_

That's all I remember.

* * *

Something I've always had a problem with, in many fantasy stories, is how there are all of these _easy outs._ If you know anything about me, you know that I don't go for those. So, with that in mind, I feel that, the greater the damage or the injury, the more involved and painful the healing process is. Crack a rib? Momentary discomfort, all set. Sprain an ankle? Don't worry about the little prick you're about to feel, you'll be fine.

Basically shatter your lower leg into pieces? Well, bite down on this strap, and don't worry if you pass out, because this could take a while. Lord only knows how unpleasant the process of healing an internal injury would be.

By the way, was that just Zuko's pain-addled mind conjuring up his uncle in a fit of delirium? Or, maybe, was his uncle taking advantage of how extreme pain seems to make us aware of things beyond ourselves to make a visit from the Spirit World? _You be the judges._

In the next chapter, the _last_ person Zuko wants to see makes a trip down to the South just to see him. And, also, to get him to sign something, but mostly just to see him. _I'll let you guys guess who it is._ Stay tuned!


	49. Chapter 49

49. IN RETROSPECT, I SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED, AND, I SUPPOSE, I WASN'T, REALLY. I mean, who else was my father going to send for this task? Some flunky? _No, of course not._ I mean, _she_ wouldn't have stood for anyone else going on this mission. But, still, the thing I never got past, when I thought about it, was that there would even _need_ to be a mission. After all, why bother? Thus, when I talked about it with Katara, in the weeks that followed, as I finally began to walk around (though, my leg being weak, I ended up needing the cane for at _least_ another fucking _month_), most of our conversation revolved around the meeting of the chiefs, of the stories that floated back, of the way that the chiefs made sure to approve the treaty in the most insulting manner possible. We all had a good laugh about that, especially because no one who didn't know the Southern Water Tribes intimately would get the joke.

_We got it, though. _

So, when Sokka burst into our house unannounced, out of breath, babbling about a Fire Nation ship on the horizon, we were all a little surprised. _Maybe it was the first inspection?_ We couldn't be sure. It had been three months since my little _operation_, and about six weeks since the Water Tribe delegation had departed to deliver the signed treaty and make their formal submission to the throne. All of the chiefs had gone, no matter how old or infirm, to bow and scrape and do what they had to do, so we were all living in a state of expectant worry. The fact that a ship had appeared was, in some ways, a relief. Indeed, so sure was I in the conclusions I had reached, I shrugged and felt secure in knowing that it had nothing to do with me.

Yeah, I know, I'm an idiot. What else is new?

It was just the three of us at the house that day, Katara and I by the fire, Toph sleeping off a hangover on our couch (_another Sokka-made gift, and quite comfy, might I say_). It was afternoon, and not a lesson day, so we were reading silently together, sipping tea and making eyes at each other and wondering silently just how fast asleep Toph really was, or if she was just pretending, waiting for the moment to pounce for maximum embarrassment.

Then Sokka burst in, babbling, and we just about jumped out of our skins.

_"Guys, there's a fucking Fire Nation ship coming in! Holy shit!"_

After recovering from the initial shock, during which Toph, awakened by Sokka's outburst, began to twitch and groan on the couch, Katara and I gave each other a look and shrugged. I turned back to my book, while Katara picked my thoughts out of my brain and gave them voice. "So?" she said, gently closing her book and laying it in her lap.

He stepped inside, letting the door bang behind him, eliciting a mumbled, _"Oh, fuck me,"_ from Toph. He looked deeply confused, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand while the other jerked a thumb back the way he came. "Yeah…but…_Fire Nation ship._"

"Well," Katara said, speaking to him like one speaks to a particularly dull child, "does it have friends, or is it flying solo?"

He shrugs, pursing his lips in thought for a few moments before saying, "Looks like just the one."

Katara nodded sagely, arching an eyebrow at her brother. "Right, so, there's just one Fire Nation ship, which, really, we've been expecting one to stop by at some point. What's that got to do with us?"

He points a finger at me. "Well, shouldn't Zuko come translate?"

Without looking up from my book, I reply, in a rather bored tone, "I'm sure they have a translator on board."

"And besides," Katara points out, leaning back in her chair and looking very done with this conversation, "I doubt that they're going to want to see Zuko."

"In fact," I continue, still not looking up from my book, "I'm probably the _last_ person they want to see."

Sokka makes a bit of a face. "What? Why? Aren't you, like, the prince or some such shit?"

Katara rolls her eyes. "He _was_ the prince. He's just another exile now."

I shoot her a grin. "_Just another exile?_ That's all I am?"

She giggles, reaches out, and paws slightly at my knee. "Hey, you're _my_ exile."

I nod, still smiling. "That _would_ make me special…"

From his spot by the door, Sokka groans and claps his hands over his ears. "Can you two stop _doing that_ around me, please? I mean, for the love of the gods…"

"And could _you_," Toph snarls, burying her face deeper into a handy pillow, "stop talking so fucking loud? Some of us need our beauty sleep."

"Oh?" Katara says, trying hard not to laugh. "Is this an inconvenient time, Toph?"

"Are we disturbing you at a moment you'd rather not be disturbed?" I add.

"You know," Katara says, turning to me, "I can't imagine how frustrating that would be."

"Right?" I finally close my book and lay it on the table beside me. "I mean, can you just _picture_ what it would be like, if someone barged in on you while you were trying to not be barged in on?"

Katara nods, a grim look on her face and a grave tone in her voice. "That would get really old, really fast, I imagine."

Toph's response, naturally, is to flip us both the bird, bury herself deeper into the pillow, and grumble, _"You two are __**so**__ going to fucking __**pay**__…"_

Katara and I have to clamp down hard on our hysterics, while Sokka just sighs. "Look, as fun as this is, I do have to ask if I really am the only one who thinks this is serious business."

"No doubt it _is_ serious business, Sokka," Katara replies, still swallowing her laughter, "but we're just pointing out that we don't think we'd be much help."

"If anything," I say, picking up the thread, "I might actually be a hindrance."

Sokka shrugs, goes back to rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, _maybe_, but I know it'd make everybody feel better if you were down there."

With that, I heave a sigh, carefully getting to my feet. I don't need the cane anymore, and I'm finally really beginning to move around (_I'm even practicing real firebending again, which is a delightful release_), but standing up and sitting down is still something that I have to be careful about. It's a gradual process, as endlessly explained by Katara when my frustration gets the better of me; healing doesn't take place overnight.

_And don't I know it…_

I brush off my trousers, stretching my arms a bit to crack my back. "You really want me down there, is what you're saying."

He shrugs again, looking a little more relieved than when he came in. "Like I said, it'd just make everybody rest a little easier, you know?"

I heave a sigh, reach back, snatch my light autumn coat off the back of my chair, and shrug myself into it. "Well, if that's how everybody feels, I'll go." Beside me, Katara is already up and moving, slipping on her own coat and brushing out the wrinkles from her skirt. We don't talk about her coming with me; we never do. We just do things together; it's how it works. I grab my cigarettes off the table, dropping them into one of my coat pockets and turning to where Toph is still trying to disappear from the world. "You coming, Toph?"

Her only reply is to snarl and flip us a very emphatic bird. We all have a good chuckle about that, even Sokka, who seems to be much more relaxed now that we're coming down to the shore. We're still chuckling as we step down, Katara making sure to give the door a good _slam_ and giggling like a schoolgirl at the tidal wave of cursing that this elicits from Toph. Once that final jab is done, Katara and I take each other's hands, then fall into step beside Sokka, so that the two siblings are next to each other and, as usual, Katara has positioned me so that everyone is to my right.

_Have I mentioned that I love this girl? Because I do…_

"So," Katara says, squeezing my hand, "anything you care to tell us about this Fire Nation ship?"

Sokka shrugs, allowing his step to regain its usual jauntiness. "It's big."

I scoff. "That's helpful. How _big_ is _big?_"

Sokka shoots me a look. "Trust me, man, you'll see what I mean."

And he was right. It really was big, almost outrageously so, really, for any of the possible purposes I could conjure up for it. A decent-sized crowd was forming around us, watching the ship slowly slide up to a berth that was dwarfed in size in an almost comical way, while the crowd muttered amongst themselves and Katara reached over with her free hand and wrapped it lightly around my arm. I pulled her close and squeezed her hand, and we joined in watching with confusion while Sokka moved about the crowd, making sure no one had brought a weapon. Several had, and there a few hushed, hurried exchanges, while Sokka entreated the individuals in question to go home, ditch the weapons, and come back. Most did without any complaint, contenting themselves with giving the ship black looks before making the quick trip back to their homes.

And all the while, we stared, watching the ship settle at its berth, and waiting, our hearts in our throats, our minds reeling in expectant silence. I ran my gaze over the ship, took in the markings, the standard, examined the crewmembers bustling around on deck, shouting at each other in tightly constrained voices. They seemed, somehow, to be just as nervous and unsettled as we were. Their eyes kept sliding up towards the bridge, and more than a few allowed angry glares to flash across their faces whenever they were looking away from it. I looked up at the bridge, narrowed my eye, craned my neck, blinking against the glare of the afternoon sun. Behind the darkened windows, I saw faint grey shapes moving about, but could not make out faces, or even body types. All I saw was a ship and its crew, too large and too ostentatious, hovering on a knife's edge.

I closed my eyes. I took a deep breathe, held it, let it out. When I had opened my eyes again, it didn't look like anything had changed. There was no indication, no clue, nothing to forewarn me, nothing but a vague sense of unease, settling down into the pit of my stomach. I gripped Katara's hand even tighter, and she laid her head on my shoulder, and whispered, _"What do you see?"_

I shake my head, willing the suspicion away. _"Nothing that I want to see, that's for sure."_

Her head moves, wisps of hair brush against my skin, and I feel her lips press softly against my cheek. I feel the kiss, feel it spread through my body, down into my bones, feel it warm the ice cold pit of dread in the depths of my soul. I sigh, and, for a moment, it's almost _happy_. I turn my head a little, look into her eyes, staring up at me, and smile.

"Got my back?" I ask.

She rolls her eyes. "How many more times do I have to tell you that?"

I shrug and wink. "At least a few thousand more."

Another quick kiss, and then we're focused on the ship once more, holding each other tight, united, as I somehow know we always will be.

_"Love you, babe," _she whispers.

_"Love you, too," _I whisper back.

_And just like that, I know I'm going to be alright…_

To my surprise, the feeling lasts, even when the gangplank is lowered and a squad of tall, armored men, marching in step, swords at their hips, spears in their hands, comes trooped down to array themselves in a half-circle around the end of the gangplank. I should be worried, terrified, upset, _something_. But no, I look at these men, focus on their faces, their faces hidden behind the intimidating skull-like faceplates of the Royal Guard, look up at the deck of the ship, see the person I'm not at all surprised to see, their eyes scanning the crowd, seeking me out, and I know, I just _know…_

_ I got this…_

I clasp my eyes on the figure striding down the gangplank, very inch of their body, even movement that they make, proclaiming their disdain for everything and everyone, I watch them practically _saunter_ down that walkway, push right through the guards, dive right into the crowd, parting them without even so much as acknowledging their existence, _any of our existences_, and…well…

All I can think is that, _I got this…_

_ Bring it on…_

_ Because, at the end of the day, I always knew I would have to see her again…_

It doesn't take her long to find us. She slices right through the crowd, and everyone stands out of her way, pulling back as far as possible. No one raises a finger, no one so much as says a word. Silence falls like a thunderclap upon us; it almost feels like, for a moment, the very planet around us has stopped on its axis, stopped to stand and stare.

She makes no concessions to anything. She's dressed in perfect royal armor, like she just stepped out of the pages of a book. Her back is ramrod straight, but somehow relaxed, like an animal preparing to strike at its prey. She holds her chin up high, the epitome of haughty, disconnected royalty. Her hair is jet black, like mine, cut short, carefully done up in a woman's version of the topknot, so that it can support the crown that only the heir to the throne of the Fire Nation can wear. She is unarmed, but somehow manages to look more dangerous than every soldier in the world put together. Her movements are smooth and lithe, almost feral, and her golden eyes sparkle with malice and hate. Those eyes, so much like my own, bore out from a face that reminds me uncomfortably of my mother, carve away at me, looking for weakness. They don't bother to waste time on the woman I'm holding on to like a lifeline; why would they? This girl, this woman, with her golden eyes and black soul, is _royalty_; no way will she ever even contemplate wasting a single second of her life on what she considers to be nothing more than a _peasant trollop_.

Beside me, Katara sucks in a breath, almost like a hiss. The wrath radiating off the person striding towards us is palpable, a living, breathing thing, with a mind and a body all its own. It envelops us, wraps its white hot tentacles around us, tries to choke the breath from us. We hold each other tighter and brush the sensation away. I narrow my eyes and set my face in stone and let this person know, without saying, _No, you can't break us, not when we're together._

I doubt she hears me. She never did listen to anyone but the voices in her head.

_I wonder what they're saying now?_

She's stopped. She finally spares a glance at Katara, looking at her in the same way that a normal person would look at a speck of dust on the counter. If she was hoping to get a rise out of Katara, she's sorely disappointed. All Katara does is narrow her eyes, straighten her body, and glare right back, with the exact same expression.

Our new friend blinks once at that. This shocks me, but doesn't surprise me. It's hard not laugh, really. _You never were as invincible as you think you are…_

She rounds on me, as if she could hear my thoughts, which, to be honest, wouldn't really shock me. This girl hears a lot of things, not all of them real. _I wonder if she's still hiding it from father…_

_ I was always the one who covered up for her, after all…_

She gives a mocking bow, to which I reply by merely tilting my head up and down. From somewhere, Sokka has slid up at my left. I sense him there, take comfort in it.

Finally, she speaks.

_"Kon'nichiwa, otōto. Sore wa hisashiburida."_

I don't smile. I don't laugh. I don't scream. I don't rant. I don't do much of anything. I just sigh and say, _"Hai, ane, sore wa motte imasu." _

Sokka is leaning towards me, his voice hushed. _"The fuck is going on, buddy?"_

I sigh again, heavier this time, before saying, in Suomi, so all can hear, "Well, that's a good question. That said," I tilt my head at Sokka, "this is Sokka, the chief's son and my best friend, and this," I tilt my head at Katara, "is Katara, the chief's daughter and my girlfriend." There's a slightly narrowing of the eyes at that, gone in the blink of an eye; only someone who knew this girl from birth would be able to catch it.

_Good thing I qualify…_

"And this," I say, narrowing my own eyes, "is my sister, Azula."

She giggles at this, giggles in that strange, unreal, brittle laugh of hers. She giggles, and she rolls her eyes, and then she makes that mocking bow once more.

"A pleasure, a real _pleasure_, to meet you all." She rises, and the snarl that crawls across her face is anything but real. _"I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine."_

Katara squeezes my hand, and says in a hiss that I didn't even know she could use, "Of that, Azula, we are all aware."

My sister giggles once more, and if she had licked her lips just then, I would not have been in the least surprised.

_"No doubt."_

Things went downhill from there.

* * *

LOOK WHO'S BACK! GAH! I swear, every time I write Azula, my skin crawls a little bit. She really is a piece of work, especially the way I write her, and I'm really going to give her a chance to shine in the next chapter.

Also, why the long delay? Well, you see, there's this thing called _Mark Reads Twilight_, and that will, quite literally, suck the life out of your day. Also, I'm sitting around fuming over the fact that the fucking maintenance guy hasn't been by to fix the fucking washing machine. _But anyways…_

In the next chapter, Azula does what she does best: Be crazy, and try to bait Zuko into doing something stupid. Unfortunately for Azula, though, Katara isn't about to have any of that. Stay tuned!


	50. Chapter 50

50. THE THING ONE HAS TO UNDERSTAND ABOUT MY SISTER IS THAT, YES, SHE'S CRAZY, BUT NOT IN A WAY THAT'S EASY TO UNDERSTAND. I honestly don't even like to use the word _crazy_ to describe what she is. _Crazy_ is an easy word to throw around. It's trite, unwieldy, inexact. _Crazy_ is how people describe _that one ex_, or how teenagers describe their parents. _Crazy_ is the word husbands use when their wives are mad are them, or vice versa. None of those things even come _close_ to what my sister is. No words do, really. _Psychotic, sociopathic, demented, manic, insane_, every single one of those collection of characters proves, in the end, woefully inadequate, which is why, I suppose, in the end, I'm always forced to fall back on calling her _crazy_. There's simply nothing else to do.

So, yes, my sister is crazy, and she's currently sitting in my house, sipping tea, doing that bizarre trick of hers where she glares without glaring, as if for a being as exalted as her to actually _glare_ at someone would be so ludicrous as break one's very mind.

So attempt to establish control over Azula is an exercise in futility, as well as being potentially fatal. All one can really hope to do is to try to establish control over the situation. Remove as much external stimuli as possible. Deprive her of an audience. Make sure there's no one around to snicker if this is a bad day and she starts talking to the voices in her head. Hope and pray that she doesn't _actually_ talk to voices in her head, and that that was just something she used to say to give people the creeps. Put her in a situation where she is given the opportunity to do what she loves best, act superior, play the merciful god. These are the methods of control and containment that I practiced and was well on my way to perfecting during the first eighteen years of my life, and these are the lessons that I find bubbling back up from the deep dark places I had hoped to never see them again as Katara and I lead her back to our house.

It was Azula who suggested that we retire to somewhere more private, no doubt expecting me to play the chivalrous fool and demand that what we had to say, we say in public. I like to think that I surprised her when I leapt at the chance to reduce the number of people who were in danger, but the truth is, I probably didn't. She's Azula, the Golden Child, Daddy's Little Angel of Death. She's always a step ahead, or, at least, she likes to think she is. If playing into that will keep people from dying, if letting her sit in front of my fireplace and drink my tea and sneer at my life will get this over and done with faster, then _fine_, I'll do it. I'll do it and I'll smile and I put my fist through a wall later.

_Anything to get her to go away, because to be honest, I'm done with this bullshit._

It's just the three of us now, occupying chairs in front of the fireplace, where a weak flame gives off more crackling and popping than actual heat. Katara and I sit in our usual places, our chairs turned to face Azula, who lounges easily in what is usually Toph's chair, legs stretched out, casting her glance over the house with a disdainful air, chin out, lazily sipping tea as if she really couldn't be bothered, but just for kicks, she'll play along. I try to mimic her pose, her air of calm and lack of concern, but I can't. _I never have_. I'm perched on the edge of my chair, absurdly uncomfortable, torn between trying to act cool and knowing that that's just not going to happen.

Katara, showing once again that she's much smarter than I am, doesn't even bother to relax. She sits in her chair, straight-backed, tension vibrating in the corners of her eyes, jaw set, mechanically sipping tea to give her hands something to do. The three of us sit in silence for what feels like an incredibly long time, Azula looking anywhere but at us, us wishing we could look anywhere but at Azula. Finally, Katara sets her cup on its saucer. The soft _clink_ sounds like main mast cracking in a storm. With rigid gestures, Katara places the cup and the saucer on the table before us and brushes her hands down her skirt. She clasps her hands, rests them in her lap, and shoots me what I hope is a smile before turning to Azula and saying, in a calm, friendly voice, "So, welcome to our home, princess."

Katara speaks in Suomi, and my sister reacts in exactly the way I knew she would. She rolls her eyes and huffs, turning to me and snarling in Nihongo, "You don't actually expect me to speak their mongrel tongue, do you?"

I swallow some tea, trying not to show how it tastes like liquid ash in my mouth. I set the cup aside, running a hand through my hair as I say, in the same language, "It is their country, you know."

She snorts, setting her own tea cup down with a clatter on the table and hurling herself back in her chair. "_Please_. The whole world's our country now, or did you manage to forget that, Zu-Zu?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Trust me, Azula, no one's forgotten that."

She giggles a bit, eyes sparkling. "Well, I had to make sure. One never can be entirely sure of what you know; you never were good at retaining information."

It's really hard not to roll my eyes and laugh at that. _I really hope that's not the best you can do._ Instead, I just kind of shrug and say, in a resigned tone, "Whatever, I'm not going to argue with you. I refuse to believe that you came all the way down here just to taunt me, so, whatever it is, let's get it over with and call it a day."

For the record, at no point to I mention, or even _hint_ _at_, the fact that Katara has become extremely proficient at Nihongo. If my sister could ever bestir herself to really look at those she considers inferior, then she would notice that, as relaxed and bored and compliant as Katara is trying to look, her eyes give away that she understands nearly every word.

But instead of paying attention to anyone but whatever twisted image she has of me, she just puts on an extremely dramatic pout and says, "Aww, but Zu-Zu, we haven't seen each other in…what…over five years? I want to catch up, find out what you've been up to, ask where you precious little ship went!"

That finally does it for me. I've officially lost interest in this conversation. I sink back into my chair, my hands clasped and resting on my stomach, wondering if my eyes are expression the strange combination of boredom and irritation that I feel. "Like you fucking _care_, Azula."

When I was fifteen and my sister was thirteen, there was a servant about my age who was basically my own personal assistant. His name was Hideki, and I liked him. He was a good kid, and he was really closer to my friend than my servant, or at least, as much as I allowed myself to have friends back then. One day, him and I were sitting on the veranda of my room in the palace, doing something or other. We were hungry, and he volunteered to run to the kitchens and grab a snack. I let him go, because he was sweet on one of the girls who worked there. He didn't come back for a long time, which was expected, because that girl was also sweet on him. I didn't suspect anything was wrong until I heard the screaming. I bolted out of my room, racing down the halls until I found my sister, standing over Hideki's smoldering body, ranting about how people needed to watch where they were going, or else they'd be sorry. I flipped out, chewing her out for killing someone for no reason. Unperturbed, my little sister, still not fully free of her little kid chubbiness, glared at me with unapologetic eyes and pointed out that, as descendants of Agni himself and thus, living gods, we could do whatever we wanted, and didn't _need_ a reason to kill someone. Without thinking, I snapped that Hideki was a good guy, and that I liked him.

I'll never forget the look that passed over her eyes. Her lip trembled, and her eyes went as big as saucers. The flames in her hands went out, and tears poured down her eyes as she blubbered, _"Oh…you liked him? I'm sorry…I didn't know…"_ After that, she buried her face in her hands and ran off in hysterics, and refused to come out of her room for a week afterwards.

I didn't know what to do then, and I certainly don't want to do now, as Azula's face falls and her shoulders slump. For a moment, she looks for all the world like a little girl who just got her hand caught in the cookie jar. She looks hurt, lost, confused, bewildered, like I just slapped her across the face and called her a whore. Beside me, Katara looks so stunned that, for a moment, I fear she's going to slide out of her seat.

_I just sit and wait._

Sure enough, _like that_, the illusion is gone. The hurt little girl, the little sister that I used to watch play with her dolls on the floor of my room, is gone, banished, strangled in her crib and tossed out with the trash. Azula actually seems to shudder a bit, her whole body twitching, her face twisting into a snarl as her eyes flash to something that only she can see, her gaze brimming with tears even as it blazes with unadulterated hatred. She shakes her head, and when she speaks, she sounds disturbingly like a snake about to strike.

"Yeah, well, _fuck you_, maybe I do care, maybe I don't care, _whatever_, but at the very least, you owe father an explanation."

I'm settling even further down, my face in one hand, the elbow propped on the arm of my chair. I feel the same as I always do, when Azula takes one of these turns. _Five years._ I want to laugh, I really do. _Five years, and I still have no idea what's going on in her head._

To which a voice replies, _And after five years, why do you even care?_

To which I say, _Because I fucking __**do.**_

_ Because uncle would want me to care…_

"I don't owe father anything, Azula."

She scoffs, as if that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life. "_What?!_ Zu-Zu, you and I both know that we owe father _everything._"

I sigh, feeling very tired. "I'm not having this fight with you, Azula."

She huffs, crossing her arms and tilting her head, her face twisting into a leer, the glimpse of the little girl so far gone that one wonders if it was ever really there. "Well, you never were one for a fight, always running away at the first sign of _trouble."_ She spits out the last word, like a bug had crawled into her mouth and she had just now noticed it. She takes a moment to smile, basking in her barb, while beside me Katara stiffens, gripping her hands together until her knuckles start to turn white.

I shake my head. "Azula…just…what are you here for?"

She rolls her eyes. "I already _told you that._"

"No," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, "you didn't. You've just sat here baiting me."

She shakes her head vehemently, eyes flashing, jabbing a finger towards me. "No, that's bullshit, and you know it. We just fucking _talked about this_."

"Uh huh," I say, trying to see where this was all going, "did we? When?"

She bats the question away. "It doesn't matter. Point is, we talked about this, but I guess, seeing as you're so _fucking stupid _– thought the level of stupidity you've reached recently is truly astonishing, even for you, what with the company you've started keeping – but, like I said, since you're so _fucking stupid_, I guess I'll just _tell you again._" She gives a theatric roll of the eyes, the likes of which our old rhetoric teacher would've been proud (_had my sister not had him whipped for daring to give one of her speeches poor marks, a process that ended when the poor old man had a heart attack_), and snatches a leather cylinder that she had brought with her off the ground. With a flick of her wrist, she casually tossed it into Katara's lap, muttering, "There you go, whore."

I have to admit, I just about shot a lightning bolt at my sister right then and there. Insult me? _Fine._ I've been insulted all my life. Insult Katara? That's…_that's a little difference._ I'm about to say something when Katara fixes me with a look, eyes blazing, a look that says, _Don't you dare be an idiot now, you fool_, then calmly hands the cylinder over to me, a thin smile on her face. I nod slowly, reaching out and wrapping my hand around the soft leather casing, and, for an instant, she reaches out with a finger, lightly runs it over one of mine, a glimmer in her eyes saying, _We got this, remember? _I nod slowly, and try not to smile, taking the cylinder from her and popping it open.

Into my lap spill two scrolls, very elaborate, very ornate. The scrolls themselves are very heavy, printed on what we call in the Fire Nation _dragon-skin paper_, which isn't dragon-skin, of course, but is actually just a very expensively made kind of paper that _looks_ like it could be the skin of a dragon, and can only be used by the Royal Family. The writing on the scrolls is absurdly ornate and intricate, carefully hand-written calligraphy in classic script, using the stilted, unwieldy court language that only nobility learn and that everyone hates. At random, I pick one scroll over the other, bending over it and furrowing my brow at it.

Beside me, Katara stirs, leaning over and whispering softly, _"Mikä se on?" What is it?_

I shrug, still trying to makes heads-or-tails of the kind of elaborate script I haven't bothered with in years. "I'm not sure," I reply in the same language. "It's in court script."

She smiles. "Don't you hate court script?"

I smile back. "About as much as you hate grammar."

From her chair, where she has finally managed to resume her relaxed pose, my sister groans, snarling at us in Nihongo, "If you're going to start speaking in your slut's barbarian language, please talk in a way that I don't have to hear you."

Shifting back so that she's facing Azula fully, Katara smiles sweetly and says, _"Et puhu Suomi, otan sen?" You don't speak Suomi, I take it?_

I shake my head, still trying to make heads-or-tails of what I'm reading, not because I can't (_the skill comes back with distressing ease)_ but simply because…well…_I'm not sure I understand what I'm seeing._ _"Hän puhuu hienosti." She speaks just fine._

"Of course I do," Azula growls, still refusing to speak anything but Nihongo, "I can speak anything I need to. But just because I _can_, doesn't mean I _do._" Her eyes narrow, as Katara continues to smile sweetly and uncomprehendingly, until Azula throws up her hands and heaves herself deeper into the chair. "Oh, why do I even bother…are you done yet, Zu-Zu?"

I nod slowly, deep in thought. _Yeah, I'm done, though I still don't understand._ I pick up the other scroll, give it a quick once-over. That one, at least, says what I expect it to, but…_this other one…_ I shake my head, my mind reeling. _What the actual fuck? _I let the second scroll roll itself up in my lap, holding the first scroll in the air by one end, the other end hanging limply out in space, tapping gently against my arm. It almost feels like it's beating in time with the pulsing pain in my head.

"Did you…_did you read this?_"

Azula rolls her eyes, grinning like a loon. "Of _course_ I read it, Zu-Zu. _Come on_, I was _there_ when Father dictated it." She narrows her eyes, and this time, she actually does seem to lick her lips. "Unlike _some of us_, I'm trusted to actually be present and do things."

I nod slowly. "_Uh huh._ Then care to explain this to me?"

She shrugs. "Oh, Zu-Zu, always needing things spelled out for him. When are you ever going to grow up and learn?"

I'm struggling hard to maintain my composure, to keep my face blank and placid and free of the venomous glare I know she's just aching for. "Just spell it out for me."

She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "Fine, fine, _be that way._ Basically," she says, in a resigned, nonchalant tone that is completely at odds with the white hot rage burning in the depths of her eyes, "Father has decided that, after everything that's happened to you, maybe you've managed to learn your lesson. So, sign that paper, blame everything on our fat idiot of an uncle, and you can come back home and re-take your place."

It takes a minute for this to sink in. When it does, Katara is barely able to stop her mouth from hanging wide open, while I just outright blink in confusion. _So, I didn't misread that…_ I shake my head, trying to figure out how I feel. _Shouldn't I feel something? I know I should…_

For a split second, I'm eighteen again. I'm angry, in pain, lonely, lost, confused. I cry nearly every night. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I've torn the mirror in my cabin off the wall and hurled it out into the sea. My face is wrapped in gauze and bandages, and all I think about every day, every hour, _every gods-damn second_, is just how much I want to go home. I didn't even want to be restored to my position then; somehow, I knew that that was _never_ going to happen, not so long as my father had his _Golden Child_ in Azula.

But…still…_I would've given anything to go home…_

_ Except…I have a home now…_

_**And it's not in the Fire Nation…**_

I turn, look at Katara, see her smiling back at me. Somehow, she knows what my decision is. Somehow, she knows that I made this decision a long time ago.

_I made this decision before I even knew there was a decision to make…_

So yeah, I start laughing. It's slow at first, just a soft chuckle, deep in my chest. But then I look up at Azula, see her bewildered expression, see, for possibly the first and last time in human history, what it would look like for Azula to be struck speechless, and then I'm giggling. Giggles turn into real laughter, then real laughter into hysterics, and the next thing I know, I'm clutching my sides, tears pouring out of my one good eye, just in complete _stitches._ Azula just gapes, her startled, befuddled look turning slowly into anger and then into blind hatred as she watches Katara, helpless with her own mirth, stand up and crawl into my lap, burying her face in my neck as we just laugh ourselves _sick._

It's only with the greatest difficulty that put ourselves back together. We're still giggling as Katara plants a big, wet kiss on my lips, one which I return with full force, after which we disentangle ourselves and I hand her the first scroll. Without a word, she tosses it into the fire, taking a poker and shoving it down deep into the flames. Even after she's grabbed a pen and inkpot and brought it to me, and even as I'm dipping the pen into the ink and preparing to sign my name, _even then_, we're still…well…_a bit loopy._

We're full of mirth right up into Azula explodes.

_"What the fuck are you doing?!"_

She's not lounging in that chair anymore. No, she's on her feet, shaking with fury and confusion. Her eyes are wild, her movements ragged, muddled, jerky, like she doesn't know whether to sit down or leap out the window, and she's trying to do both at the same time, all while her brain tells her to do somersaults. Her fists are clenched, and her body seems to pulse with barely contained energy.

To that, I merely look up at her, smiling, and say, "What do you mean? I'm signing the papers."

_"Which fucking papers?!" _she snarls.

I shrug. "That should be obvious, shouldn't it? I'm renouncing my claim to the throne." With a flourish, I do just that, writing the characters of my full name, _Tokugawa Zuko_, on the handy space provided. I lift the scroll to my face, blow softly on the ink, shake it a little, make sure it's reasonably dry, then, still with a happy smile, roll the scroll up and slip it into the cylinder, tapping the cap into place. With the cylinder, I tap the top of my head, where I haven't worn a topknot since the worst day of my life. "This is your lucky day, I suppose. You get to keep wearing that thing." I stand, feeling like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders. "Though, really, you're the one who loses. I always thought that thing was ugly."

Her hand flies to her topknot, trembling as it gently brushes its fingertips across what I know to be very cool and very smooth. Catching herself, she pulls her hand away, and through gritted teeth she grinds out, _"It is __**not**__ ugly."_

Katara snorts at that, causing Azula's eyes to fly to her. Suspicion dawns on her face, but I don't care. _I've done what needed to be done._ I hold the cylinder out to my sister, and say, feeling calm and relaxed, "Well, you have what you wanted. _Now go._"

She blinks once, twice, and then, without warning, swats the cylinder out of my hand and across the room. _"You…you think I came here for __**that?!**_"

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Fine, sister, _I'll bite_. What _did_ you come here for?"

She steps towards me. She's very close. I raise a hand at Katara, who has put herself into a fighting stance. Katara nods at me, but stays how she is, ready to bend at a moment's notice. I turn my attention to my sister. I look into her eyes, or, at least, the only one I can see. _It looks so much like mine…_ I look deep, searching, desperate. _Are you in there, sister? Are you still there? Where's the girl who used to play with dolls, who liked stories of fantasy and adventure…_

_ The girl who said Zu-Zu with love…_

But she's not there, is she? Maybe she never was…

The answer, when it comes, is not what I was expecting.

_"I came here for you."_

I blink at that. I really don't know what else to do. A thousand possible replies fly through my head, and just as quickly, disappear, until I'm left with is, "Wait…_what?_"

She jabs a finger into my chest. "You heard me. _I came here for you._" She pivots on her heel, and begins, for lack of a better descripting, stomping around the room like a spoiled five-year-old who just got told _no_ for the first time.

_Which isn't a bad description…_

"You know what Father wanted to do?" She doesn't wait for an answer, just rants on. "He wanted to demand that the Water Tribes turn you over, you and all your crew, whoever had managed to survive. He was fucking _livid_ that you had turned against him like that." She stops, giggles, raises a finger. "Though he was also impressed. He really never would've thought you had that kind of gall in you, but still," her face twists back into a snarl and she's away again, "the point is, he wanted you _dead._ You know who stopped him? _You know who talked him out of it?" _She jabs both thumbs into her chest, hard enough to make me wince at the sight. _**"Me, that's who! ME!"**_ She throws her hands up in the air, screaming at the wall. "I went to him, and I said, _You know, Father, think about it, think about how it'll look, if you have my idiot brother brought home in chains. Everyone will think he tried to overthrow you, and that he was enough of a threat to warrant an execution! Think of all the fuss! And nevermind how much of a royal __**pain**__ these barbarians are when they work together on something. Why not try something different?"_

I step towards her, arms down, fists clenched at my sides. "So, you actually thought…_you actually thought I'd want to come home?_" I reach up, point at my scar. _"After that fucking bastard did __**this?!**_"

She shrugs, looking bored by the topic. "Please, Zu-Zu, it's just a scar. And besides, don't blame me, blame Mom."

That stops me in my tracks. I tilt my head, the world reeling and spinning and turning around me. _The fuck?_ "But…wait…_Mom?_"

Azula nods, lifting up a hand and examining her fingernails, her moment of rage forgotten. "Well, _yeah_. How many times do I have to tell you? _Mom talks to me._" She points over the corner behind me. "I mean, gods, _she's right here._ How do you never see her?" She shakes her head, bemused. "And to think, you thought she loved you best."

I won't lie, I see red. The world flares into a thousand-thousand shades of red, as if flames were dancing just behind my eyes. My blood surges in my veins, and all I want to do is burn my sister to a crisp. I take a deep breath, storm over, and snatch the cylinder off the ground. I hold it out to her once more, words growling out of my throat like crush glass. _"Just fucking take the cylinder, Azula. Take it, go home, and finally get what you always wanted._"

The tears again. _Oh, gods, not the fucking tears…_

"But…_but Mom said that you'd come home if I asked…"_

I sigh. Just like that, the rage is gone. _I never could stay mad at her._ I wonder why, even as I know. _It's not her fault. She's sick. She needs help._ "Look," I saw, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, holding out the cylinder with the other, "just…_just take the damn thing._"

Azula stomps her foot, tears brimming out of her eyes. "But…_Mom said!"_

I just shake my head, speaking in a calm, cool voice, shoving the anger and the rage deep down into my gut. "Well…Mom was wrong. I'm sorry, but she was wrong."

If I'm shaking my head, Azula is practically hurling hers from one end of the room to the other, almost as if she wants to twist it off her own neck. "No, no, no, _fucking __**no!**_ You need to come _home!_"

I take a deep breath, let it out. I reach out behind me, and just like that, Katara is with me, her fingers entwined with mine, her other hand on my arm, and we're holding each other tight.

"Azula, listen to me: _I am home._"

"No, no, _no. You don't belong here."_

"Azula, this is the only place I do belong."

She takes a step towards me, once again slapping the cylinder out of my hand and coming close enough that I can almost see the things that slither around in her mind.

"Why? So you can dress in fur and throw rocks at the sea and fuck your whore? Is that what this is all about, some silly, stupid little Water Tribe slut?" She leans in closer, until her forehead is almost touching mine, and she's screaming, screaming like a demon out of hell. _"You're going to turn your back on Father, your homeland, __**me**__, all because it turns out that Water Tribe girls really do know how to suck dick?!"_

I should feel angry, I know, but all I feel, just then, _is sad._ I don't know what to do, I really don't. I just want to hug her, but I know that would only make it worse. I want to pull her in and rock her back and forth, like she used to let me do when Mom was still alive, and our parents would scream at each other long into the night.

_But that little girl is gone…_

_ Buried beneath the madness…_

"Azula," I say, sighing, "just…_go._"

She steps back, a strange gleam in her eyes. "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Like for me to just run off and leave you here, so you can hide." She leans forward, finger out. "Well, I see through you, don't think I don't. You might've fooled everyone else, _even Father_, what with your crazy suicide mission and charging into battle screaming _banzai_, or yes, I heard the reports, but I knew better. _I know better, because I know __**you.**_ _I see you, you dirty, filthy, race-traitor, stupid, moronic, idiot of a __**coward.**__"_

The slap, when it comes, is as violent as it is unexpected. Azula's reeling back against the wall behind her, holding her face, and I'm standing there, dumbfounded, while Katara stands before my sister, fists clenched, shaking with rage. I start to step forward, to get between them, but, in unison, both of their hands go up, and I stop, and I watch.

_And I wait._

"Fuck you, you crazy bitch." Katara's voice is unlike I've ever heard come from her before. She's almost a different person, standing there in our home, glaring down at my sister, as I realize, for the first time, that Katara's got an inch on her. "You want to come in here, yell and scream and call me names? _Fine._ I didn't expect any better from you. But don't you dare, _don't you fucking __**dare**_, call Zuko a _coward._ _**You hear me?!"**_

Azula just giggles. I see it in her eyes. _Victory._

_She's finally going to get what she came here for, as much as she does anything for a reason…_

"And what," my sister snarls, eyes aglow, "are you going to do about it."

Katara doesn't even hesitate.

_"Agni Kai."_

Azula just smiles.

_"You're on."_

And what am I doing at that moment?

_Wondering when I lost my fucking mind…_

* * *

So, that took all goddamn afternoon; sorry about that. Azula can be a bitch to write, in every possible meaning of the term. Seriously, the girl is at trip. Writing her is kind of like dealing with _That One Relative_ that everyone has, that always shows up at Christmas, even though everyone is kind of hoping that they don't. It's kind of draining, you know? _Yeesh._

Someone mentioned in a review that they felt that Ozai seemed to be letting Zuko off easy. Well, he wasn't; Azula pitched the dude the idea this idea, that it'd be easier (and a propaganda victory, too) if they could get Zuko to come back to court. I mean, why not? Keep him under tabs, and it wasn't like he's going back into the line of succession. Ozai's standing there thinking, _Yeah, well, and who knows, maybe he's learned a thing or two in defeat, and will be better than my daughter, who is obviously out of her mind._ Meanwhile, Azula's thinking…_whatever it is that passes for thinking with Azula._

_But there you go…_

Also, with Ozai and the peace terms, it's important to remember that Ozai thinks of himself as a god, and what would a god enjoy more than the feeling of being merciful, especially to an object that he probably feels isn't worth his time? So yeah, Azula basically saved Zuko's life, for reasons that even I, the guy who wrote the damn chapter, can't even _begin_ to understand.

_Weird, right? _

In the next chapter, Katara teaches Azula a lesson, and, for the first time in his life, Zuko gets the last word. Stay tuned!


	51. Chapter 51

51. LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE FIRE NATION, THERE'S AN ABSURD AMOUNT OF RITUAL, TRADITION, AND CEREMONY SURROUNDING AN AGNI KAI. Except for extreme circumstances (such as two claimants to the throne challenging each other) there's a mandatory one-day cooling off period. The duels must be fought during the day, preferably at whenever the sun is highest in the sky. The fight must occur at a designated dueling ground, blessed by a fire sage. There are rules against physical contact, rules against using anything but one's own bending, traditions stating that to either challenge or accept a challenge from someone who is significantly less powerful than you is the height of shame and dishonor. There are rules and traditions governing the behavior of bystanders. You have to have a second. The loser can cry for mercy, but it is up to the winner whether or not to accept or go for the kill (_for the record, the vast majority of Agni Kais end in someone conceding, typically after a token fight to maintain one's honor_). Agni Kais between two individuals of different classes (for example, between a peasant and a member of the nobility) are discouraged and frowned upon. Agni Kais between men and women (_again, except in extreme situations_) are forbidden, though women are free to challenge women and men are free to challenge men (_and yes, it is not terribly uncommon for two noblewomen to challenge each other, and those are some of the most ferocious duels_). There are traditional prayers, traditional meals to eat beforehand, traditional ways to celebrate a victory or mourn a defeat.

Naturally, all of this is thrown out the window that afternoon. Not ten minutes after Katara called out my sister, we're all out by the beach, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. It would actually be a beautiful view, if it wasn't for the occasion. The sky is threaded with billowing wisps of cloud, turned a thousand shades of purple and gold by the autumn sun. The breeze coming off the sea is steady and cool and thick with the taste of salt, and the sea itself is calm and quiet, waves gently lapping at the sand.

Just about everyone's come out to watch. Most of the village is arrayed around the beach, carefully placed a safe distance away behind walls of rock that Toph has thrown up. I scan the crowds, spot people I know, members of the tribe and even the members of my crew, many of them rubbing prayer beads and muttering pleas to the gods. Azula's crew stand at the far end of the beach, passing bottle of _sake_ back and forth and chuckling to themselves, no doubt expecting a quick victory. Out in front of Toph's wall, Toph herself fumes and passes, her killer hangover forgotten, while Sokka matches her grumbled curse for grumbled curse. I ignore them, focusing all of my attention on Katara. At the far end of the beach, my sister is stomping around, stripping down to her underclothes and tossing her armor to the ground. I can't hear what she's saying, or to whom she's speaking, and to be honest, I don't want to know.

_I won't pretend that I don't care, though…_

Katara and I are facing each other, clasping each other's hands tightly. She's stripped down to her own underclothes, though if she feels the bite in the breeze, she doesn't show it. In fact, she's calm and steady as a rock, almost _giddy_, even. There's a gleam in her eyes and she looks like at any moment she'll burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. It's so infectious that I'm half-afraid that I'll be the one to collapse into hysterics.

My heart is beating away like a wild beast in my chest. I feel light-headed and surreal, unable to believe what's going on. I squeeze her hands, and she looks up at me, that all-to-familiar sparkle in her eyes.

"Hey," she says, still somehow smiling, "I got this. You believe me, right?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Babe, you know I don't just believe you, I believe _in_ you."

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "Then calm down."

I nod. "I'll take that under advisement."

She clucks her tongue, popping up to kiss me softly on the cheek. She takes a deep breath, lets it out, and says, in that unbelievably steady voice she somehow has, "So, anything I need to know?"

"Yeah…you know how I bend?"

She nods. "I should. We've been…heh…" She adopts a hungry expression, and shamelessly runs her tongue around the inside of her mouth. "We've been sparring a _lot_ lately, you know…"

It's hard not to blush. Somehow, I like to think that I manage. "Heh…true…still, Azula doesn't bend like that."

She arches an eyebrow. "She doesn't? How so?"

"Well…" I have so search for words for a few moments. Once again, I find myself running up against a language barrier. Firebending is a discipline that exists in Nihongo, is, in some ways, _shaped_ by Nihongo; explaining the finer points of it in any other language can be a pain. Somehow, though, I manage, because Katara needs me to. "Basically…you know how there are different schools of waterbending?"

"Mmhmm. Kind of like how they bend completely differently in the North than we do down here?"

"Exactly. Well…there are about three major schools of firebending. There's _Old Firebending_, which goes right back to the beginning, then there's _Sozin's School_, which is what most modern people in the Fire Nation practice-"

She raises her head at that. "_Sozin's School? _Why does Sozin get his name attached to everything?"

I shrug. "Well…oddly enough, he was a big reformer. If he hadn't started the war, he'd probably be remembered as one of the greatest Fire Lords who ever lived. Man did a lot of good things…right up until he stopped. Reforming firebending was just one of them."

"Huh…well, I guess you learn something new every day. And the third major school?"

"_The Dragon School_. It's…it's a very _different_ form. Some say it's the oldest, some say it was just a reaction against Sozin's reforms, and that it just combines old forms and new. Point is, that's my school; I was raised in Sozin's School, but when I was exiled, my uncle took over my education, and, well, it turned out that the Dragon School was the one I should've been in all along."

"So," she says, following the thread, "in other words, Azula's pure Sozin's School."

I nod. "Pretty much. So…you know…watch out. She fights different. Also, there's the fact that she's Azula; that tends to…_make things weird_, sometimes. So…like I said, be careful. If you see her doing anything normal or predictable or that a rational human being would do, that means she's baiting a trap."

She tilts her head. "Have you fought Azula before?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not. Our…our father never allowed it. I've seen her fight plenty. Agni Kais are pretty much her favorite thing to do."

She giggles. "Well, handing out a well-deserved ass-kicking is basically my favorite thing to do, so, it turns out we're both going to be on even ground."

I lean down, press my lips to her forehead. "You're totally going to win this, aren't you?"

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. "_Please._ You had any doubts?"

"Heh…not really, no."

"Good, because if you had, you would've spent the next month on the couch."

My eyes go wide. "Gods forbid."

She gives me a long, deep kiss, full of passion and promise, before pulling away and shoving me back to where Toph and Sokka have finally planted themselves on the makeshift wall. "And you just remember that."

I wave at her as I take my position. "I will."

Katara walks away from me to her starting position, head up, shoulders back, eyes blazing with confidence. I make no bones about admiring the view. I shouldn't be thinking of such things, I know. This is crazy. _Fucking crazy_. I should be terrified, hysterical, going out of my fucking _mind_ with fear. What am I doing? How could I let this happen? It's obvious Azula came here at least partially intending to provoke me into just this kind of fight. Why didn't I rise to the bait? Why didn't I cut her off before it got too far?

_Why am I letting this happen?_

Only…I'm not letting this happen. To say that would be to imply that I control Katara somehow, which…well…_I don't_. No one could ever control her, least of all me. She saw what my sister was trying to do, _as much as Azula tries to do anything_, and then she stepped in and volunteered to teach my sister a sorely needed lesson. She made a decision, and now she's going to follow it through.

_That quality is one of the many reasons why I'm crazy about her…_

Oh, and she's totally going to win, too, so, yeah, there's that.

Beside me, Toph leans over, handing me a bottle of liquor that I happily take a big pull from. I wipe my mouth, hand the bottle over to Sokka on my other side, while Toph says, "So, tell me, Sparky, are you totally checking out Katara's ass right now?"

I laugh. I don't know why, but I laugh, _and it's a real one_. "Oh, fuck yeah. Be jealous."

Toph smacks her lips. "Trust me, there's no way it can compare to my mental image of it."

"Heh…no doubt." I turn to Sokka, who is taking far too much time with that bottle. "Hey, share, asshole," I say, as I snatch it away from him. He answers me with a glare, to which I just shrug and say, "Hey, I would've liked to see you try and stop her."

His fury dies a quick death, as he rolls his head around in acquiescence and mutters, "Yeah, I know…still…she's going to win, right?"

Both Toph and I scoff in unison. "Of course she's going to fucking win, Snoozles," Toph replies, sounding flabbergasted that anyone could ever think otherwise. "It's Sugar Queen. She never loses."

Sokka raises a finger, looking to me. "Didn't you once say that your sister never loses, either?"

I nod. "Yeah, she doesn't, but then again, she's never had a real fight before. Plus," I continue, frowning at the jerky, confused way Azula is going through her gathering forms, "I don't think she's all here today."

Sokka nods. "I see what you mean. Still…mind if I say something?"

"Sure."

"Your sister is, like, smoking hot."

Toph nods, taking a pull from the bottle I just passed to her. "Right? I'm blind, and even I can see that."

I roll my eyes. "Fuck you guys. You know that, right?"

Sokka spreads his hands. "Hey, I just call them like I see them."

"Well," I say, taking the bottle from Toph, "don't get too excited. The last guy who thought that ended up in the hospital."

Sokka shrugs. "Hey, I bet he'd say it was worth it."

Toph sighs. "And you guys call _me_ crazy."

I was going to say something to that, but I never got the chance. Suddenly, without warning, Azula hurled a massive wall of flame at Katara. Katara responded by pulling forth her own wall, only of water, slicing the firewall in half and striding through it, smiling, surrounded in a swirling cloud of steam. My sister actually seemed _floored_ by this act, this simple gesture of defiance. She rocked back and forth on her feet for a moment, then screamed like some creature of the night and hurled herself into the attack. Every possible form and combination was hurled at Katara, and each one Katara deflected, repelled, turned into wisps of steam and chunks of ice.

_It was actually kind of beautiful to watch…_

I wish I could say that it was a close fight, I really do. And who knows, maybe it was; it just looked lop-sided because of my natural bias towards one of the fighters. I know the crowd was gasping, gasping and screaming and covering their eyes. I'm sure there were tears being shed, and Sokka couldn't bear to watch most of it, spending as much time hiding behind his hands as he did actually observing the proceedings.

As for me, though? I couldn't tear my eyes away. To me, it just looked like Katara was, step-by-careful-step, tearing my sister apart.

My sister tried, she really did. Once she fully realized the power and skill that Katara had at her fingertips, realized (_I like to think_) that she had managed to blunder into the first real fight of her life, she adopted the simple strategy of trying to force Katara way from the sea. She used every trick she possibly could, great walls of flame, crackling fire whips, blazing daggers and spinning wheels bright as the sun. Katara, though? Katara destroyed them all. Katara never attacked, she just took whatever Azula felt like throwing out, and then taking it apart. It was, like I said, beautiful, glorious, wonderful to behold. Soon, Azula was covered in sweat, dripping with water, sand caked in strange patterns all over her skin. She kept screaming, her voice growing hoarse and cracked, hurling abuse at Katara in every language that she knew, and some that I'm pretty sure she only knew the swear words for. Sometimes she screamed at Katara, sometimes at me, sometimes at the crowd, and sometimes…

_Sometimes it sounded like she was screaming at people who weren't even there…_

The end, when it came, was almost a disappointment. Sure, Azula hadn't been able to keep Katara _away_ from the water, but she had been able to keep Katara from getting _to_ the water, which why it was surprising when both women threw massive walls of their elements at each other, turning the entire world into a thick, billowing cloud of steam. It was so heavy, we couldn't even see, reduced to batting away at the fog and coughing and mumbling to ourselves, the air filled with people's voicing asking what the hell was going on. From within the cloud, we could hear my sister still screaming away, screaming in a way that made it sound like she was actually crying, and then, just as suddenly, the fog cleared, and Azula was standing alone on the beach. She looked around, frantic, until a voice cut through the silence.

"Ready when you are, _bitch._"

Azula whirled around, and there Katara was, chilling quite casually in the ocean. My sister screamed at the heavens, screamed until she was out of breath, and then hurled herself up into the air, riding on two great pillars of fire. I saw the move, played it out in my mind. Azula would hurl herself into the air, clapping her hands together to form a deadly sword of fire, and then she would hurl herself down upon her opponent. It was a deadly move, one that I had never seen fail to win. I almost closed my eyes…

_I'm glad I didn't…_

It's hard to describe what happened, it was all so fast, so confused. One minute, my sister was flying down at Katara, slashing her flaming sword into the sea. Katara was there a second before, but then, she was gone, and my sister's flame dissolved into a mist of steam and her own incoherent cries. The steam billowed up, and then, just like _that_, like the snap of a twig, the very ocean itself seemed to come alive, and it crashed down on Azula, and we couldn't see a thing, just swirling steam and thrashing waves. Silence ticked by, seconds rattled off by my own beating heart. I didn't move, I didn't blink, I didn't breathe…

_None of us then…_

Then Katara came striding out of the surf, dragging a crumpled, soaking wet _thing_ behind her, and I just about wet myself with relief.

_Thank the fucking __**GODS…**_

There wasn't much left do after that. Toph came forward and clapped my sister's unconscious form in manacles of rock, just to be on the safe side, while I picked Katara up and swung her around, covering her with kisses. The entire beach erupted into wild cheers and thunderous applause, and soon Katara was lifted up on her people's shoulders and was carried off the beach, everyone chanting her name with wild abandon. Even my sister's crew seemed…well…_not too terribly upset._ They made no move to help her, and more than a few looked rather satisfied with the turn of events.

_Guess I can't blame them…_

In the end, it was just me, sitting in the sand, smoking a cigarette, waiting for my sister to wake up. When she finally did, she took one look around her, thrashed about for a few moments, let out a few screams, and then, just as suddenly as she had started screaming, she stopped and burst into tears.

I wish I could say it didn't affect me, it really did. Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a fool; an idiot, maybe, but not a fool. I've heard all the tales about my sister, and collected a few myself. I've seen her kill, sometimes on a whim, sometimes for no reason at all. I've looked into her eyes and seen the madness there. I've hated her before, loathed her, despised the very sight of her. Deep down inside, I've always suspected that, someday, it would come down to a fight between her and me, one-on-one, the Agni Kai that cannot be avoided.

_And yet…_

I can't hate her, not now, there on the cool, clean sand, with the waves lapping at the shore and my sister, my twenty-one-year-old sister, sobbing like a little girl, right down to the snot running out of her nose and cutting tracks through the sand caked to her face.

I just can't hate her.

_I just can't…_

Without a word, I take the cylinder that she had brought with her and toss it before her. She takes it in, and for a moment, it's like she can't remember what it is. Then, there's a flash of recognition, and her sobbing turns into pathetic blubbering.

I don't know what else to do, so I start talking, in a strange voice even I barely recognize.

"I want you to know something, Azula: I don't hate you. Honest to Agni, I don't. I'm…I'm sad for you, to tell the truth. You're sick, and you need help, and as long as you stay in the palace, as long as you obey Father's every whim and dictate, as long as you keep twisting yourself around for him, you're never going to get even _somewhat _better. He's going to let you run yourself into the ground, until, finally, the day comes when someone will value you more dead than alive, someplace where there's not a peace treaty on the line, or your brother holding them back, and they're going to end your existence, and if you think Father is going to shed one fucking tear over you? _You're not as smart as I always thought you were._ There's…heh…there's so much I've wanted to say to you. Like…how uncle always worried about you, and wished he could've saved you like he saved me, or how shitty I feel about all of this, or how much I wish I could reach through whatever it is that's fogging your mind and bring out the little girl who used to play with her dolls on the floor of my room, or…fuck, I dunno…I just…there's a lot I always wanted to say to you, but…I guess, at the end of the day, none of it really matters. Wish in one hand, shit in the other, right? Yeah, _right…_"

I take a deep breath, let it out. I take my cigarette, toss it into the sea. Most of Azula's crew has wandered back to the ship, where they're obviously getting ready to depart. Only a few of the Royal Guard remain behind, shifting about aimlessly in the sand, waiting for some sort of order or sign. I stand up, brush the sand from my pants, and pull my sister up onto her knees. I take her face in my hands, brush the tears and the snot away, and I kiss her forehead.

"But what really needs to be said? I'll always love you, Azula. Even when I hate you, you'll always be my sister. One day, I hope, you'll realize what that means, and on that day, I'll accept you with open arms." I lay my forehead against hers, feel the sand grind against my skin. "But if you come for me or mine again, well…_I can't make any promises._" I pull away, brush a few more tears away. There aren't many now, just little ones, trickling down her face, the sobbing having turned more into _sniffling_ than anything else. I kiss her forehead again, stand up straight, and beckon the guards over, snatching up the cylinder and tossing it into the air. When the guards come up, to my surprise, they bow to me, probably out of habit, and, to my surprise as well, I bow back. I toss one of them the cylinder, and he catches it handily.

"Take care of her," I say, "and if you value your lives, you'll never tell a soul what happened here."

They all nod, nod and bow and nod some more. The man who caught the cylinder raises it, a confused look on his face, and asks, "What's in here, m'lord?"

It's hard not to laugh. _M'lord. It's been a long time since anyone called me __**that**__…_

"It's my official renouncement of my claim to the throne, and of my titles, and of my citizenship, as per the peace treaty."

They nod, and they bow, and the nod, and they bow, as if unsure what to do. At that, I take one last look at my sister, and start to walk away.

I've only gone a few steps when my sister's voice calls me back. I stop, turn on my heel, see that the guards have put a blanket around her shoulders and are preparing to carry her back to the ship. It's then that I realize what she had said to stop me.

_"Zuko, wait…"_

_ Zuko…_

_ She's never called me __**Zuko…**_

"Yes, sister?"

She looks away. "How did it feel, to finally get the last word?"

I shake my head and shrug. "Like shit. I don't know why you and father fight for it so much."

And with that, I turned back around and headed back into the village, never looking back.

* * *

So…I actually really liked this chapter. Like…if there was a chapter that I liked best, out of all the ones I've posted either here or in _A Different Path_, this would be my favorite. I can't help but feel that I did some real fine work here.

But enough about me. What's the deal with Azula? Well, when we finally meet her in _A Different Path_, her father has given her free reign, probably happily nudging her over the edge. By the time we get to the final confrontation, she's gone completely over the edge, not least because her supposedly weak, useless brother has been beating her at every turn. She's snapped, and that's the result.

This, though? Azula's on the precipice. On one side is a path towards something like a normal life; on the other side, the abyss. She doesn't even know that she's facing that choice, but Zuko does, because he's spent the past five years making that decision. Here, Katara finally gives Azula the first actual fight of her life, and like all bullies, as soon as they have to really work for domination, Azula falls apart. Then, Zuko, being the guy he is, decides to say to his sister what he always wanted to say, to reach out that hand and try to get her to pull herself away from the edge.

Will she? I can honestly tell you that we won't find out in this story. Maybe in another one? Or, who knows, maybe one of you guys will figure it out.

Man, I'm all about throwing you kids prompts…

And that's it for the war for a while. It's over, it's done. The world has come to terms, and no doubt Azula will spin some story back home and Ozai will shrug and say _fuck it_ and go on his merry way of world tyranny. And guess what that leaves us with, guys?

_At least five whole chapters of nothing but fluff!_

_Hope you kids won't mind…_

So, in the next chapter, Sokka and Zuko bond, while Sokka mercilessly mocks Zuko's lack of skill at carving. Stay tuned!


	52. Chapter 52

52. "YOU KNOW," SOKKA SAYS, PUFFING ON A CIGARETTE, AN AMUSED EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE, "IF YOU'D JUST LET _ME_ DO THIS, WE WOULD'VE BEEN DONE, LIKE, A MONTH AGO."

I shoot him a glare. He's right, of course, but fuck if I'm going to give him that satisfaction. Instead, I bend back to my task, carefully sanding the edges of the stone until they're smooth and round. "Whatever," I reply, trying very hard not to speak in a snarl. "Never mind that that would defeat the entire fucking _purpose._"

He tilts his head, carefully examining the paper holding Nakamura's design sketch. "What is the purpose, anyways? I mean, you know we don't really do betrothal necklaces in the South, right? You see them, sure, but generally they're old family heirlooms."

I shrug, focusing on my sanding, because fuck Sokka, I _own_ sanding. _It's the actual carving process that causes me issues._ "Of course I know that. I'm not an idiot."

He scoffs. "Really? Since when?"

If I wasn't so busy sanding, I would've flipped him off. Frustrated at my lack of free hands, I settle for communicating the sentiment with my eyes. His response to just burst out laughing and say, "You know, dude, I love you, but it's kind of funny when you try to glare with your bad eye."

I grimace, not least because I know it's true. My right eye is, according to popular opinion, wonderfully expressive, an effect that is often ruined by my dead, milky white left one. "Yeah, I know, but also, fuck you."

He giggles, settling himself even further into his chair. "Swearing is the final refuge of the weak mind."

I flinch a little at that. _That was something my uncle used to say. _A jolt of pain and sadness flashes through my body. I let it come, let it go; trying to fight it will only make it worse, make it linger, something I've learned from all too much trial and error. "Oh?" I say, keeping my voice light. "Where'd you hear that?"

Thankfully, Sokka is nothing if not oblivious (_or, at least, knows how to act that way_), and just shrugs and concentrates on his cigarette. "Just something one of the elders used to say when I was a kid." He shakes his head, clucking his tongue. "Weird guy."

I nod, trying to conceal my grimace. "I can imagine."

_Dammit, and today was going so well…_

I've often wondered if Sokka is really as blissfully ignorant of nuance as he portrays himself as, and this is one of those occasions that makes me ask myself that very question. Without missing a beat, he points at the stone in my hands and asks, "You sure you don't want me to take over for a bit? You look like you could use a minute."

_One of these days, I'm going to solve the mystery that is your intelligence_, I swear to myself, even as I shove the thought, along with the past, in the bottom of a backroom closet of my mind. "Nah, I got it. After all, sanding is my thing."

"Heh…yeah, that's what you said last time, right before you sanded the design right off the stone."

"Look, are you going to be helpful, or are you just going to remind me of my past failures?"

"As legion as those failures are in this situation, I hasten to remind you that I already carved one of these things, and I did it perfectly, on the first try."

"_Hasten to remind you?_ Gods, Sokka, I never should've let Katara start teaching you how to read."

"Yeah, she says that, too. We've both agreed that it's all your fault."

_"What?!"_

"Kidding, dude, _kidding._ Gods, get a sense of humor."

"My sense of humor is just _fine_, thank you very much."

"So, first you're not an idiot, then you have a sense of humor? Today is apparently the occasion for all kinds of mind-blowing revelations."

"Seriously, dude, go fuck yourself."

"Fine, fine, like I said, just trying to be helpful."

"Well, reminding me that you already carved this thing perfectly isn't exactly _helpful._"

"How so? I think it's _very _helpful. It reminds you of the fact that we could've been done with this about four months ago, if you'd just taken my suggestion that we just go ahead and use that one. Then you and my sister could already be married, and Gran-Gran could stop fretting that her darling granddaughter is going to pop out a baby out of wedlock."

"Alright, _one_, I believe that tradition states that I have to carve this thing myself-"

"Hey, I wouldn't have said anything. It would've just been between you and me."

"Bullshit. Toph would've gotten you shit-housed at the party after the ceremony and you would've blurted it in the middle of one of your _oh-so-famous_ toasts."

"Hey, my toasts are _fantastic._"

"I agree, they're great. They're always followed by alcohol, after all."

"Ahh, blow me. What was your other point?"

"Hmm?"

"You said _one_ a minute ago, like there was a _two._"

"Ah, right, well, your grandmother doesn't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah, well, I know _that_. I keep telling her not to worry, it's not like you two are doing anything over there or whatever-"

I don't even bother to dignify that with a response; I just give him a _look_, as if to say, _Alright, I take back my previous thought, you're definitely a moron._

He just blinks in surprise. "Wait…you guys _do? _I thought Toph was just kidding…"

"It's generally best to not doubt Toph in such matters."

"Yeah, well, _yeah_, but still…how have you two not…I dunno…_multiplied?_"

I just roll my eyes. "It's called _birth control_, Sokka, and I'm _so_ not getting into that discussion with you right now."

"Ah…right…but…_birth control?_"

"Seriously, dude, what do they even _teach_ you guys down here?"

"Not to have sex before marriage?"

"Says the guy who was born six months after his parents got married."

"Hey, what can I say? I was a miracle baby."

"Heh…lots of miracle babies in the Southern Water Tribes, I take it?"

"Eh, generally just the first ones."

I can't quite decide if Sokka is being serious or not, so I decide to ignore the answer and abandon the thread. "So," I say, holding up my little project, "what do you think?"

He looks it over, and gives an appreciative nod. "I like it, dude, I really do. It looks like you might actually get somewhere with this one."

I laugh, and resume my chores, putting aside the sanding cloth and taking up a little chisel to start refining the design. "It should be. Seven _is_ supposed to be a lucky number."

"No, I believe that this one is _eight._"

"Didn't we agree not to count the one that you made?"

"_We _didn't agree on jack and shit, my friend." He reaches over and palms the stone in question, which I've been using as a reference because it is, sadly, rather perfect. He turns the stone over in his hand, twirling it between his fingers, before grunting in approval and setting it back down where I had it. "So, I think I need to know more about this _birth control_ thing."

_Dammit._ "What about it? And besides, surely you've figured something out by now, what with all the shenanigans you get up to."

He chuckles, looking unspeakably smug. "Yeah, well, I do get up to some shenanigans…" He throws me a wink, all while looking down at himself as if to say, _Yeah, I know I'm hot, what of it? _To say that I'm very close to hysterics would be a severe understatement. "After all, not all of us can be happy having only been with, like, two people in our lives."

For a split second, the phrase, _Maybe so, but your sister is a lot of woman_, but decide quickly against it. We are, after all, currently in Hakoda's house, the table we're working at being Hakoda's dining table, and, with my luck, Hakoda himself would stroll in the door right as I uttered those words. Hakoda likes me, and I like him, but it never pays to press one's luck in such matters. With that thought in mind, I swallow the comeback and instead say, "One of these days, I'm going to find out how much of your record is true, and how much of it is bullshit."

He shrugs, still smiling. "Only I will ever know the truth, I suppose."

I nod. "Meh, maybe…or I could just bribe Toph into listening in while you brag."

His face falls. "Dude…not cool."

"Say the guy who keeps bringing up that this is the seventh fucking stone I've had to carve, due to a variety of minor errors."

"Hey, it's not my fault they don't teach you kids anything cool in the Fire Nation."

"Heh…you know, your sister would beg to differ."

He rolls his eyes. "I _so_ don't need to hear that."

I giggle a little at the look on his face. "Hey, you're the one who walked into it."

"Eh, bite me. But no, seriously, _birth control_. What gives?"

I shrug the question away. "Like I said, I'm not in the mood. Ask me tomorrow, or ask your sister."

He makes a face. "That's…umm…_no_. I don't know much, but I know enough to know that my sister is the last person I want to ask that question."

"Meh, if you say so."

His eyes go wide, and he performs a _very_ theatric head bob. "I _do_ say so, thank you very much. Which, by the way, brings me back to my first question: _What, exactly, is the purpose of all of this?_"

I pop an eyebrow. "How does that at _all_ bring us back to that?"

He gives a triumphant grin. "Lost you in the complexities of my logic once again, eh? It's okay," he continues, looking generous, "better men than you have fallen before my brilliance."

All I can do at that is laugh. "I hasten to remind you, _as you so wonderfully put it_, that one can't get _lost_ in what doesn't exist."

He looks decidedly unaffected by my sally. "Hey, snark all you want, it doesn't take away from my victory."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, whatever." I frown, sticking the tip of my tongue out of my mouth as I work at a very delicate swirl, my one good eye somehow divided between the model, the drawing, and my current (_and hopefully final_) attempt. "Anyways, back to your question, why are you so confused?"

He shrugs. "Well, like I said, you don't _need_ a betrothal necklace down here. All you need to do is go ask her, and trust me, she'll say yes." He ponders a minute, then adds, "Heck, you don't even need my dad's permission. Just go up to Katara, pop the question, and _boom_, wedding." He gestures lazily at me, hunched over a purple stone with a squinted, slightly bloodshot eye. "So, I guess what I'm asking is, _Why put yourself through all this?"_

I chuckle. "Besides my compulsion to do everything the hard way?"

"Heh…yeah, besides that."

I sigh. I consider, for a moment, giving a flippant answer, but the truth is, it's not the first time I've been asked this question. Toph brings the subject up at _least_ every day, generally liberally salted with various obscene suggestions, and even Hakoda has dropped subtle hints to the effect that I should just get on with it already. Really, the only person who hasn't expressed any impatience is Katara. I've never had this conversation with her, and she's never asked this question of me, because…well…without even asking? _Somehow she knows._ She does that thing where she looks at me, smiles softly, and kisses me, and tells me that she loves me and believes in me, and we understand each other perfectly.

_It never fails to get to me…_

But, even with all of that, I still feel the urge to…well…_explain myself_, and if anyone's going to understand, it's going to be my best friend.

_Heh…best friends…who would've thought?_

So, I can the snark, gently laying down the stone and carving tool and pinching the bridge of my nose with one hand while, with the other, I pull a cigarette out of the pack that Sokka and I are sharing. I light it, take a few long, deep puffs, then ask, "What do you know marriage customs in the Fire Nation?"

He shrugs. "Next to nothing, honestly." His face turns a bit apologetic, as he mutters, "And sorry about that, really…"

I laugh, reach over and pat his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. I didn't know much about anyone else's marriage customs until I was exiled. Point is…well…" I take a deep breath, letting it out in a long, smooth cloud of smoke, before launching into an explanation that I have to work hard to free from the _Teacher Voice_ that Katara insists is the single sexiest thing I do.

"Point is…in the Fire Nation, at least among the nobility, pretty much everything is arranged, through intermediaries, typically the fathers, or, at the very least, older male members of the family. The two people who are going to get married generally don't even meet until after a preliminary arrangement has been made, and even then…well…"

I trail off, and Sokka leans forward, to my surprise looking genuinely interested. "Then what?"

I shrug. "Ah, look, I'm _so_ not going to try to explain a _miai_ to you. Point is, if you make it to fifteen without an understanding with someone, you're pretty much an old maid, and your family is getting desperate."

"So," he says, "what does that have to do with torturing yourself trying to carve your own betrothal necklace?"

I sigh and shake my head. "Look, man, I'm getting to that, okay? Patience is a virtue, you know."

He scoffs. "You're one to talk."

"Eh, blow me. _As I was saying_," I grumble with a glare, causing him to roll his eyes and making a _mouthing off_ gesture with his hand, "at that point, you're not yet _betrothed._ There's an _understanding_, sure, but you can't get married until the boy is at least eighteen and the girl is at least sixteen. You'll meet each other a few times before then, always closely supervised, never anything major, stuff like attending a play together, or taking tea, stuff like that. When the appropriate ages are finally reached, the boy is finally officially presented to his bride-to-be. He goes, alone, to the house of his bride's family, and formally presents himself as her betrothed, and officially asks her father for the girl's hand in marriage. To show his sincerity, beforehand, he makes something by hand, which he presents to the girl when her father brings her out, and if she takes it, that's considered to be an official acceptance."

Sokka nods slowly, taking it all in. "In other words, the amount of time, effort, and forethought one puts into the betrothal gift is meant to show just how seriously you intend to take the marriage?"

I smile. "Precisely."

He continues musing, though, tapping his finger against his chin. "Are all gifts the same?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. Everyone always tries to be different."

"Hmm…so…what if a guy presents a shitty gift, one he obviously bought on his way to the house?"

"Then he's basically saying, _I'm only doing this because I'm being made to do this._"

"Huh…can the girl refuse?"

"In theory, yes, but in practice? It's pretty rare. Agni Kais have been fought over less."

"I can imagine. Has someone's, like, brother ever taken offense at the gift, and tried to step in?"

"Totally. There's even been cases where opposing suitors have intercepted the procession to the house, and challenged the guy bringing the gift to an Agni Kai. Those," I say, making a face, "can get pretty nasty."

Sokka nods. "I would think so…man, you guys don't do things by halves."

I shrug. "It's all part of our very delicate self-image."

He laughs. "True that, true that…so…" His smile turns back into a contemplative pursing of the lips. He takes out a cigarette, leans forward to let me light it, then slumps back in his chair, puffing away and staring up at the ceiling. I watch him, deep in thought, because watching the cogs turn in Sokka's head is never anything but entertaining. He pokes up a finger, swirling it around in the smoke, before leveling it at the stone resting on the table and saying, "Which brings us back to the betrothal necklace. Why that?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "That…that's harder to explain. Basically, I wanted to create a betrothal gift that honored both my traditions – because, even now, after everything, I'm proud of my culture and my people's traditions, even if so much has been perverted over the last hundred years – but also honored yours in the process. About…oh…the second winter of my exile, my boys and I got iced in up in the North, and I got to learn a lot about how things work up there, and I found the idea of betrothal necklaces rather interesting."

His eyebrows pop up. "You spent a winter in the North?"

I nod. "I'm pretty sure I've told you this."

"Heh…were we drunk?"

"Potentially."

"Well, there you go. What was it like?"

"Meh…_cold_, like, _really fucking cold._ And my…_my uncle_…him and I, we…heh…we kept having to endure these awkward dinners with the High Chief and his family, because the guy was convinced that, if he just wined and dined us enough, we'd agree to lead a rebellion against my father, no matter how much such a project would fail, if funded from the outside."

He nods. "I can see how that would be frustrating. What was his family like?"

I shrug, rubbing the back of my neck. "Eh? His daughter was pretty, you'd like her, but her fiancée was a total dick, dumb as a box of rocks, if the rocks themselves were the dumbest rocks in the world. You could tell she couldn't stand him, which made the evenings even more frustrating. But," I continue, shaking my head, "we're getting off topic."

"I dunno," he says, smiling in that devious way of his, "I think I'd like to know more about this princess, myself."

"Hey," I reply, "if depending on how things go, we might just end up going to the North, if we can't find the next Avatar down here."

"Hmm…I like that idea…" He shakes his head, waving the train of thought away with the smoke. "But, like you said, whatever. So, in the end, why the betrothal necklace?"

I don't say anything at first. I just reach down, pick up the stone, hold it up in the light. My heart trips in my throat, as I realize that maybe, _just maybe_, I might finally have figured this thing out. The stone is almost perfect, a deep, rich purple, drinking in the later morning light filtering in through the windows. There's a strange, cool warmth pulsing from within, as if it is both ice and fire at the same time. The design I'm working into it is a complex one, a pattern of interlocking, shimmering swirls that could be either water or flame. I close my fingers on the stone, press it into my flesh, feel the life that flows through it, a tingling sensation that I can't begin to understand.

_This is it…_

_ This is the one…_

_**It's time…**_

Without taking my eyes off my closed hand, I answer Sokka's question.

"Once, early on, I asked Katara why she wore her mother's necklace, what it means to her. She told me she wears it because it links her physically, tangibly, to her mother. That, because your mother wore it herself, every time Katara puts it on, every time she touches it, every time she feels the fabric shift around on her skin, it's like her mother is there, watching her, holding her, and that way, she'll never forget how much this amazing woman loved her, and what she did to protect her."

I look over at Sokka, and I smile.

"I want Katara to have something like that, only from me. I want her to have something that will always be with her, that will let her know that I'll always be there, and that I'll never, _ever_, stop loving her, and I wanted to do it in a way that respected her traditions as much as mine."

I shake my head, and I can't help but laugh. _Well, this took a turn._

"So," I say, smiling, "how's _that_ for an answer?"

Sokka just grins right back.

"Dude, I am _so_ going to throw you the best bachelor party of all time."

I shake my head, chuckling.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

_Just so long as Toph doesn't plan it…_

* * *

I promised you fluff, and I give you fluff! I hope you enjoy, because we're going to have nothing but fluff for quite some time, which, I like to think we all deserved.

Real quick, to all my readers: You guys are, like, way too smart for your own good. I can't hide anything from you! But it's cool, because I love you guys. Also, fun fact: The reviewer _Dori Amarez_ is my fiancée, in case someone sees that review and goes, _Why is this person putting x's and o's in a review like that?_

Where else was going with this…ah, yes! The Fire Nation customs that Zuko describes are basically a _much_ simplified version of customs from feudal Japan, simplified because the reality, like most marriage and courting customs when you look at them from an outside perspective, is _ridiculously complex_. I just took what I learned about feudal Japan, edited it down for brevity and clarity, threw in some changes to make the customs fit in our established universe (_like the stuff about betrothal gifts, which I'm not sure was a thing in feudal Japan, but might've been, it is in other places_), and _voila_, we have the Fire Nation. Then we toss in some Water Tribe flavor there right after, and we have a universe that functions by rules beyond, _whatever the plot needs._ Cool, right? _I love this shit._

I had something else to say…oh, yeah! Because Azula won't show up again, I thought I'd tell you what went down with that. In my mind, she pulled herself together (_as much as she's capable_) and spun some story to Ozai that satisfied him and convinced him to let well enough alone. If that's too easy, imagine some rebellion in the Earth Kingdom that attracts his attention, or consider that a prompt. _*__nudge nudge wink wink*_

In my opinion, though, something tells me that she'll never be quite the same again. _I wonder what I could do with that… *ponders*_

In the next chapter, Zuko puts on a nice outfit and goes to ask Hakoda a very important question, during which Hakoda finds Zuko's nervousness very amusing. Stay tuned!


	53. Chapter 53

53. LIFE IS, IN MANY WAYS, A MATTER OF ROUTINES. Stay in a place for long enough, and you'll start to fall into a pattern, a set way of doing things, which becomes the pivot around which you turn. For all of our unconventionality, Katara and I were no exception. Every morning, especially during the week, went much the same. I would wake up first, and go outside and firebend as the sun came up. By the time I came back, Katara would have made breakfast, and we would sit down and eat and talk and flirt with each other. During the morning, Katara would alternate between teaching waterbending and training in waterbending, while I would alternate between training and practicing with the warriors of the tribe and working with Sokka on my special little project. Since I always got back first, I typically make lunch, which, again, Katara and I eat together. After lunch come lessons, in reading, writing, and language. Then, Katara makes her healing rounds, while I give more lessons, again in reading and writing and language, to anyone who wants to learn. Sokka is one of them, Hakoda another, as well as some of the other members of the tribe, and, finally, Toph. The four of us friends typically eat dinner together, either at our house or Hakoda's, and at night, Katara and I either stay in or go out, either together or separately.

It's a good life, a welcome respite. Before too long, it will be time to resume our quest, to finally fulfill our shared destiny. I don't know what's going to happen then, or how it's going to go. I honestly have no idea what to expect. All I can be sure of is that it will be a long journey, and dangerous, and I couldn't help but feel that we wouldn't be a complete set by the end of it. There would be more pain, more heartache, more tragedy, more sorrow.

_And yet…_

I couldn't help but feel at peace with the reality of my future. If I had to put why into words, it would have to be because I knew, down to the very depths of my soul, that I would not be alone, _that I would never be alone again._ I would have my three best friends in the world, all that remained to me, the family I'd always wanted, always wanted and never thought to dream of. I would never leave them, and they would never leave me.

_And as long as that was true, I was going to be okay…_

That morning, the last dawn of the week, dawned like any other. I woke with the sun, went down to my usual deserted stretch of beach and honored the sunrise with the art of firebending. I did everything as my uncle had taught me, his words echoing in my ears. I stretched beforehand, ran through a work out, worked up a sweat. It was cold; winter had come, and there was a thin sheet of snow on the ground. I worked as I always did, though, shirtless, wearing only a thin pair of trousers, relying on my inner fire to warm me. It worked, as it always did; by the time I had worked my way up to the advanced forms, I felt like I was burning from the inside out. It was glorious, wonderful, and by the time I was done, I felt like the sun itself was rising within my chest.

When I stopped, I was out of breath, blood pounding away in my ears. I did some calming exercises, right up until I heard a soft clearing of a throat. I turned, eyebrow popped, to discover Toph, lounging on a little seat of rock that she had made for herself.

I bowed to her, smiling. "Good morning, Toph. How are we doing today?"

She smiled back, looking, for once, completely free of snark. "I'm going pretty good. How was your workout?"

I laugh, feeling a slight shiver build as my inner fire began to cool. "It was…actually, that was one of the best workouts I've ever had." I shake my head, trying to return to a normal state of being, knowing that's impossible, _knowing exactly why_. "I feel pretty fantastic, honestly."

She nods, looking satisfied. "I'm glad to hear it." She tilts her head, and I know the gleam is coming into her eyes long before I can see it. "So, today the day?"

I sigh, look off towards the sun, feel my blood warm with the glow. "I'm afraid that it is. It's either now or never, or else I'll try and talk myself out of it."

She just rolls her eyes and scoffs. "You don't actually think anyone's going to say _no_, do you?"

I shrug, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling awkward and confused. "Well…I dunno…_maybe…?"_

She scoffs again, even more derisively this time, hopping off her seat and returning it to the ground with a stomp of her foot. She strides over to me, and I find myself shocked at how much she's grown. She's still rather petite, with a body type completely at odds with her personality or abilities, but the child-like sheen that still clung to her when I met her is long gone. She's coming up on eighteen now, and she looks it, the softness of childhood melted away, and a fullness to her voice that only age and hard-won maturity can bring.

_I'd be lying if I didn't feel a little moved…_

_ My Toph, all grown up…_

She broke the picture by socking me hard in the arm. She ignores my yelp, turning on her heel and striding away, calling back over her shoulder, "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

"So everyone keeps telling me!" I shout back.

She laughs, but keeps walking, shouting, "And be sure to tell Katara that I've got her bachelorette party in the bag!" as she disappears into the village.

As usual, breakfast is ready by the time I get back. Katara and I sit down and eat together, like we always do, talking about nothing in particular, just kind of reveling in each other's presence. When we sit down, I'm a complete nervous wreck, and, to be honest, I'm not much improved by the time it's over, but I do feel better. I feel like…_like I'm seeing her through new eyes_, almost like I'm seeing someone I've never met before. I can't stop staring at her, watching her, touching her.

_Loving her…_

Somehow, she ends up curled up in my lap, her forehead pressed against mine, her fingers dancing lightly across my chest as I run my hand through her hair. I kiss her softly, and I whisper, like it's that first night, all over again, _"Hey? I love you."_

She sighs, and kisses me back. _"Hey? I love you, too."_

"Heh…what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Something truly horrible, no doubt."

I gasp. "Hey! Isn't that my line?"

She scrunches her nose, laughter in her eyes. "What can I say? I'm a dirty little thief."

"Mmm…are you, now? And what, pray tell, did you steal?"

"Well," she says, throwing her body into dramatic gestures, "just to start…I stole your virtue, your heart, your soul…"

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who did the virtue stealing," I point out.

She giggles. "It's not _stealing_ if someone gives it to you."

"In that case," I reply, in a matter-of-fact tone, "you haven't stolen a single gods-damn thing."

Her eyes go wide, and she puts a hand to her chest in horror. "Why, I _never._ I mean, such language, and from a former _prince_, no less." She shakes her head, clucking her tongue, doing her best impression of her grandmother. "Shame on you, young man."

I hang my head, lips curled into a pout. "A thousand apologies, my lady. How can I ever make it up to you?"

She puffs up her chest, face curled up in concentration. "You know…that's a very good question. What can you do, that would actually be a punishment? Anything I could suggest, you'll probably enjoy."

"You could always exile me to the couch for the night," I offer in a helpful tone.

She frowns. "No, that just won't do. I'd never last the night."

"No willpower, eh?" I punctuate this by tilting my face into the crook of her neck, and trailing a series of light kisses down it, in response to which she does nothing to hide her shudder.

"Oh," she replies, voice trembling a little around the edges, "trust me, I have _plenty_ of willpower." She moves her wandering hand, and begins to delicately trace my collarbones through my shirt. "The thing is, though," she continues, nibbling on a corner of her lip, "it's winter now, and I've gotten far to accustomed to having a firebender pulse so much heat at night that I only need one blanket."

"Well," I say, making my kisses turn into nibbles, "I'd be more than happy to inject a little heat into you right now, keep you warm through the morning."

She sighs, pressing her mouth against my ear. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

I smile into her throat. "I'm sure you'd enjoy it, too."

She bites my ear, making my breath catch in my throat. _"No doubt."_ And then, just when I think I'm about to get a bit lucky, she's leaped off of my lap, twirling easily away from my grasping hands and giggling as she snatches her pack and her practice waterskin, slinging them easily over her shoulders, what can only be described as a shit-eating grin across her face. "Alas," she says in a singsong voice, "duty calls. I have things to do, people to see, so I guess it'll just have to wait." I watch, completely dumbfounded, as she puts on her coat and her boots and her gloves, then brushes her hair back behind her ear in _exactly_ the way I find completely irresistible. "So, you be sure to clear up the dishes, dress warmly when you go out, and you know where to find me when you need me."

I give myself a shake, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing in my chest. _Among other things._ "Well…umm…uhh…okay…umm…heh…why would I need you?" I laugh awkwardly, and wonder, not for the first time, _how the fuck she knows these things._

She just smiles brightly and clucks her tongue. "Oh, Zuko, I always need you, and you always need me, it's just that…well…" I swear to all the gods, her eyes sparkle as she says the following: _"Some days we need each other more than others._" She does a final twirl, showing off. "So, how do I look?"

I blink a few times, trying desperately not to picture her naked. "Uhh…beautiful, of course, like always."

She rolls her eyes. "That the best you can do? Oh well, it'll have to serve. Oh! And one more thing."

I lean back. "There's _more?_" _Seriously, what now? Is she going to flash some leg, complete my subjugation?_

She giggles. "There's always more, sweetheart. Just be sure to tell Dad that I say _hello_ when you see him."

Now I'm up and on my feet, blushing bright red, looking everywhere but at her. "But…umm…who said I was going to see your dad today?"

She just giggles, runs over, kisses me on the cheek, and then she's gone. I'm still standing there, staring at the door, when Sokka shows up a half-hour later. He walks in, whistling to himself, to find me struck completely mute. He waves a hand in front of my face, sighs, and mutters, to no one in particular, _"Fuck, Katara, was that necessary? Yeesh…"_

So, yeah, I'm pretty sure Toph blabbed. Punishment, I promise, will be swift and completely ineffective, but it's the thought that counts, right?

_Right…_

_ Uncle, a little help, please?_

* * *

So…yeah…remember how I said Zuko was going to go talk to Hakoda in this chapter? _My bad._ Heh…I was going to do that, but then Katara showed up and decided that this was her show, and that was pretty much the end of that.

_Sorry._

Alright, _in the next chapter_, I promise, _swear to God_, Zuko's gonna chat up Hakoda. _Cross my heart._ Stay tuned!


	54. Chapter 54

54. IN THE FIRE NATION, WHEN A MAN GOES TO ASK ANOTHER MAN FOR A DAUGHTER'S HAND IN MARRIAGE, HE DOES IT ALONE. That does not mean, however, that he walks to the front door alone. It's traditional for the suitor to ask a close male friend to accompany him, and the higher your rank, the larger will be the procession that follows you. This is meant to show off the wealth, status, and power of one's family, as well as to provide protection, should any rejected suitors be lurking about. There is a whole heap of other traditions, because we're the Fire Nation, and the Earth Kingdom has nothing on us. For example, before a man makes his proposal, his female family members (_or, if worse comes to worse, his female servants_) sew a special set of clothes for him, never to be worn again. The route taken to the home of the girl's family should be as long as possible, so that said family has time to prepare and get ready (_never mind that all of this arranged far in advance_). There's a special meal the suitor is supposed to eat before he sets off, and a special prayer he's supposed say before he takes his first step. And so on, and so on, _and so on…_

All of this and more I told to Sokka, over several days of poking and prodding from him. Up until the moment he snapped me out of the catatonic state his sister had inflicted upon me, I hadn't the faintest idea why. I has my suspicions, but most of them centered around trying to shore up his reputation as the village's resident _Smart Guy_. Then, as I finally came back to reality, I look down at the parcel he had tucked under his arm, take in the way he's dressed, and right then, _I finally get it…_

_ That son-of-a-bitch…_

I'm not surprised at what I find when I lay the package on the table and unwrap it. Laying there is a set of betrothal clothes, in rich, shimmering red silk, trimmed with gold and yellow, patterned so as to look like the clothes themselves are on fire. I run my hand over the fabric, close my eyes, feel the texture, the warm, the time and the care that went into this. When I open my eyes again, Sokka is standing very stiffly, blushing bright red, looking slightly embarrassed. I'm confused, until I reach up and touch my cheek and feel the tears rolling down my face. I smile and wipe them away, sniffling a little as I straighten myself out.

"So," I say, wiping my eyes again, "dare I ask who put this together?"

"Well," Sokka says, still looking a little flummoxed, "I was the one who put it all together, but to be honest, when I went to talk to your crew about it, they were already making the clothes." He slid a satchel off of his shoulder, and started pulling out some other things, which he laid out on the table. "There's also a coat…some gloves…a scarf…oh, and socks, because one of your boys was really insistent that you have proper socks for today." He looks up, chuckling. "Don't even bother asking me why."

I just shrug, a big, stupid grin on my face. "Don't worry, man, I won't." I start to strip off my shirt, heading for the bathroom. "You know where the food is, help yourself."

Sokka's already on his way. "I always do."

"Heh…isn't that the truth…"

An hour later, I'm clean and shaved. I've given my hair a trim and stood in the mirror for a solid ten minutes, getting my topknot just right. While I was in the bathroom, Sokka took the opportunity to polish my boots and get everything in order. I was touched to see how diligently he took his job as, essentially, the best man, and was rather disappointed in myself that I hadn't been able to see through his endless questions to what was, all along, his actual goal.

There is an awkward moment, when I step out of the bathroom and begin to get dressed. I hear him suck in a quick breath, and when I look up, he's turned away, staring at the wall. I pull on the trousers, and begin to slip on the socks, shivering a little bit in the cold air (_a firebending suitor is to refrain from bending on the day of his betrothal, so I just have to suffer the chill_), frowning in confusion.

"You alright, man?"

He nods, and when he turns back, I'm stunned to see he's wiping a few tears from his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…it's tough to see you, see all the scars."

I look down at my body. Even with Katara's healing, even with her being all of her incredible power to bear, the battle, and the five years before that, has left its mark. Scattered across my skin are silent testimonies to my struggles. Every mark, every spot of puckered flesh, is a story, a chapter in my second life, the life that I had to be thrown out of my home to even have a chance of living. I reach over to my left shoulder, touch the scar from the arrow I took in the battle, that matches the one on my right shoulder, from another arrow, shot by pirates.

I smile.

_"Wanna try again?"_

_ "Well…umm…I might've taken an arrow there this past winter…"_

I can't help by laugh.

_I'm pretty sure that's when I fell in love with her…_

I shake my head, focusing on slipping on my boots. "It's not your fault, you know."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I know, I just…I just wish there was more we could do to repay you."

I roll my eyes at that. "_Please_. You don't owe me anything."

"That's where you're wrong, buddy," he answers, his voice, for once, very serious. "We owe you everything."

"Funny," I say, my mouth twisted in a bemused grin, "that's what I find myself thinking about you guys every damn day."

"Whatever." He waves my comment away, and stands up to begin a little pacing. "We'll never get anywhere with this, so let's get you dressed and get a move on."

I was prepared for a lot of things that day. I was prepared for Sokka to show up dressed to the nines, and kind of suspected that he'd have some kind of surprise for me. Sure, I didn't know _exactly_ what he was up to, but I knew there'd be _something_ that'd probably make my eyes water. I was even prepared to find Toph, all gussied up, waiting for me out in the snow.

_But I wasn't at __**all**__ prepared to find my boys…_

They were arrayed just to the side of the door, all in a row, at attention, dressed in military uniforms that they had obviously put a lot of work into restoring. To the unbiased eye, no doubt there were plenty of flaws and nicks and dents, all kinds of things to mar an otherwise perfect picture. But me? I didn't see any of that.

_I was too busy trying not to cry…_

The second I stepped out of my house, every single one of them snapped to attention, and then bowed, full at the waist. Doing nothing to hide how moved I was, I snapped to attention and bowed right back, just as deep, just as low. We rose together, as one, and then I went along the line, embracing each and every one of them. We all had a moment, chuckling and teasing and crying a little with each other. And when I reached the end of the line, I turned, took a deep breath, choked and hot and sharp, and said, doing nothing to hide the joy and the sorrow and the pure unadulterated happiness I felt, _"I love you boys."_

They smiled back at me, and bowed once more. At the end of the line, Uchimura, oh, you crazy bastard, Uchimura, _how did you survive all of this_, he smiled right back and stepped forward. He had a long, wrapped-up something in his hands, and when he knelt in the snow, my heart leapt out of my chest and went running off into the sea.

"We love you, too, sir, which was why we had one last thing to give you."

I'm shaking my head and I'm trying not to sob, _I can't sob, this is a happy day_, and I take the parcel and delicately pull off the wrapping and my heart comes running back and dives through my open mouth and heads straight for my toes.

_My uncle's sword…_

I look at Uchimura, having no idea what to say, what to think, _what to do…_

"How did…" I shake my head, trying to compose myself, knowing it's a lost cause. "How did…_how did you get this?_"

Uchimura rises, head low, my tears reflected in his eyes, his face strangely lop-sided from the sword that did its best to split his skull down the middle when we stormed Zhao's ship. _And yet, he still kills with the ladies._ _Even Toph thinks he's cute._ "Well, sir, it seems General Iroh left it behind."

I shake my head, not really believing what I'm hearing. "But…he had a sword at the battle."

Uchimura can only shrug. "I can't explain it, sir, I really can't. All I know is…we were looking through the barracks, scrounging up material to make your betrothal clothes, when…well…we opened up the General's foot-locker and found…_this._"

I look back up at him. I don't know what's going on, I really don't. _I'm sure he had his sword at the battle, I'm fucking sure of it, more sure than I've ever been about anything in my life…_

_ And yet…_

_ Here it is…_

_ In my hand…_

_ A voice…_

_ "Take it, Zuko. Use it better than I did…"_

_ I smile, somewhere in the depths of my mind…_

_ "I'll do my best, uncle. I'll make you proud…"_

_ A laugh…_

_ "You already do, every day…"_

Before me, Uchimura is taking a sword belt from one of my boys. With great care, Sokka steps forward, and helps me secure the belt and attach the sword. The transformation complete, I turn to what I now to be the members of my procession, smile like a little boy on his birthday, and ask, "So, how do I look?"

Sokka shrugs. "Eh, I wouldn't let _my_ daughter marry you."

"Yeah," one of my boys, Gato, says, leaning forward, "but what about your sister?"

Sokka brushes the idea off. "Please, like she'd bother with _this_ loser."

We all have a good laugh (_teasing the suitor is half the fun of being in the procession_), and then I turn around to Toph and say, "What do you think?"

Toph makes a big show of mulling it over, before shrugging and going, "Meh, the fuck do I know? _I'm blind_, but even I can tell that you look pretty delicious right now." She motions down at her clothes, which fit her remarkably well, no matter how uncomfortable she looks in a dress. "Now, can we _please_ get this business on the road, before I freeze to fucking death?"

I raise my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, alright." I stride forward, take my place. Behind my, the procession forms. Toph and Sokka flank me, Sokka to my left, Toph to my right. Behind us, the eight remaining members of my crew form up in two columns of four, shoulders back, chins high, eyes clear, the final march of eight good soldiers, good friends…

_Good men…_

_ Thank you, uncle…_

_ I miss you…_

_ You would've loved this…_

I don't try to shake the thought away. I let it stay, let it linger, let it curl deep within and warm my soul. I don't want to cry anymore; I want to laugh, to sing, to fucking _dance_. I've never felt so confident in my life.

_Never…_

It seems that the only person who didn't know what was going to happen today was me. Everybody seems to have turned out to watch the procession, smiling and laughing and cheering and jeering. Good-natured pokes and prods are hurled at me, the best ones taken up by my boys and turned into little songs and chants. We circle the village, walk down all the streets, pass in front of all the doors. This wasn't my original plan, but whatever, fuck plans, right?

_And besides, if I'd gone off script, I'm pretty sure my boys would've mutinied…_

Toph is just winding down leading my boys in a lively rendition of an old Fire Nation dirty song, modified to include specifics about how Katara is going to wear the pants from now on, as we come to Hakoda's door. It feels like the entire village is crowded around, shushing each other, jostling for a better view. We stop, and Sokka, obviously knowing his lines better than me, steps forward, knocking three times on the door. When it opens, Hakoda stands before me, tall and proud, dressed in full chief's regalia.

_And just like that, my courage and my confidence vanish with the wind…_

_ Damn…_

Hakoda frowns (_wait, how does he know that the father is supposed to frown, no matter how happy he is to see the suitor…_), pursing his lips as if in deep thought. "Who comes to my door at this hour?"

Sokka lifts his chin, and replies, in a clear, ritual tone, "Hakoda, father of Katara, Zuko, son of Iroh, comes to ask your daughter's hand in marriage."

Hakoda nods, slow, careful, his eyes thin and guarded. Meanwhile, I'm trying to recover from the fact that entire exchange has been in near perfect Nihongo. Obviously heavily rehearsed, sure, but still…

_But still…_

_ Why, that cheeky fucking bastard…_

_ Sokka, you are so going to get it for this…_

"Very well," Hakoda continues, obviously concentrating very hard on his lines, "he may step forward." I do so, and immediately kneel in the snow…or, at least, I should be kneeling in the snow, except the area in front of the door has been _swept clean…_

_ What the actual fuck…_

_ Oh, gods, I love these people…_

_ Oh, father, how would you react if you know that banishing me was the best thing that ever happened…_

_ If it led to calling this place my home…_

Oddly enough, I'm probably the least prepared person here. It's been six years since the last time I was witness to a procession, not long before my banishment, and even then, I wasn't even the best man, just a representative of the Royal Family. So I have to wrack my brain a bit, before I can come up with my lines. I take a deep breath, let it out, and begin, speaking slowly and carefully, so everyone who needs to can follow along.

"Chief Hakoda, it is true. I come to humbly ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. May I have your blessing?"

A ripple of laughter flows through the crowd, as, very quickly and as subtly as possible, Hakoda pulls a little cheat sheet out of his pocket, mouths a few words, then shoves it back in, clearing his throat before speaking.

"I am inclined to consider it. Did you break a betrothal gift?"

"Of course, sir." I turn to Sokka, who very carefully hands me the final parcel, carefully wrapped. I open the package, and hold it up for Hakoda's approval.

_Here it is…_

_ The seventh and final try…_

_ The seventh and final stone…_

Hakoda stares for what feels like a very long time. His bottom lip trembles, and, his hand shaking, he reaches out and picks up the gift I have brought. The crowd leans forward, and a murmur of awe sweeps back through it.

In Hakoda's hand is a betrothal necklace, handmade, the likes of which hasn't been seen in the Southern Water Tribes for a very long time. The stone is a sparkling purple, perfectly round and smooth, dangling from a necklace of pure, royal blue. The design on the stone is a swirling torrent of what could be either fire or water or both, crashing together and becoming one, or maybe they were never really apart to begin with.

Without another word, Hakoda hands the necklace back to me. He is clearly moved, and he takes a moment to wipe the tears from his eyes. A shaky smile on his face, he whispers, in Suomi, _"That's a wonderful thing you did there, son, a wonderful thing."_

Sokka, seeing his cue, calls out his next line: "Does the suitor have your blessing?"

Hakoda smiles, very kindly, very warmly, and says his final lines. "The suitor has my blessing. He may enter."

I stand then, turning to protest, because Katara's not here, she's down by the beach, teaching waterbending classes. I open my mouth, but before I can say a word, Toph and Sokka are shoving me inside, while my boys take their positions around the door, ostensibly to ward off any jealous suitors (_at least, that's the tradition_). My last sight, before the door shuts behind me, is over several of Katara's younger students, perched on their parents' shoulders, watching the show with looks of pure excitement on their faces.

And my last thought?

_Oh, uncle, somehow, I don't know how, I hope you're enjoying this show…_

_ Because I know I am…_

* * *

See? I kept my promise. _I always keep my promises…_

_If you're my fiancée…_

If you're my readers, well…_that's a bit trickier…_

_Oops…_

ANYHOO. So, we all know what's going to happen next, right? Well, in that case, no time to lose! Let's get a move on!

In the next chapter, Katara gives Zuko a very important answer. I shouldn't even have to tell you to stay tuned!


	55. Chapter 55

55. SHE'S WAITING FOR ME IN HER OLD BEDROOM. Somehow, this doesn't surprise me in the least. I'm ushered in there by Hakoda and Kanna, Hakoda's arms around my shoulders, Kanna leading me by the hand. They talk right over me, completely ignoring my requests for clarification, right up until I deposited in the room I barely recognize and the door is slammed with a theatric _thud_ behind me, Kanna doing nothing to conceal her excited giggling as Hakoda desperately tries to shush her.

Which leaves me along, a room I haven't seen in a long time, with the love of my life.

What was in the room? I haven't the faintest idea. Toph had taken it over long before, and made it her own. I'd never paid it much heed, and I certainly didn't pay any heed now.

_Because she was standing…_

_ She was stepping into the light…_

_ Oh…_

_ Gods…_

_ My…_

_ Just…_

_**Wow…**_

She was stunning, gorgeous. I vividly remembered her leaving the house that morning, and couldn't, for the life of me, figure out how she'd gotten ready so quickly. She would've had, at most, two hours, but…

_Gods…_

She was dressed in a flowing dress of shimmering fabric, colored a thousand-thousand shades of blue that swallowed the light. Her hair was perfect, billowing out over her shoulders and down her back. Her necklace, freshly cleaned and polished, shone like the sun at her throat. She was…in a word…

_Fucking perfect…_

"So," she says, smiling, "surprised?"

I nod dumbly, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I guess you could say that…"

She giggled, but in that giggle was a trembling note, and with a shock, I realized that she was just as nervous as I was, which was impossible, because my feet were lead weights and my legs were jelly and I was pretty sure that I had stopped breathing a good ten minutes ago, which was impossible, because I _should _be dead, but hey, who knows what the body is capable of at times of stress, right?

I take a deep breath, resisting the urge to rub the back of my neck. "So…I gotta ask…whose idea was all of this?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "You won't believe me, but I had nothing to do with it. It was all Sokka, Sokka and Toph and your crew and my father and the whole…heh…_the whole tribe_, it seems like. They practically _kidnapped _me as soon as I was out of sight of the house."

My mouth drops open. "_No. Freaking. Way."_

She nods, spreading her hands, a look of puzzled bemusement on her face. "I know, right? Sokka had this whole idea that the least that we could do for you was throw you a big Fire Nation betrothal…_thing._ And I didn't even know! I knew you were going to see Dad today, but all of _this? _Heh…I'm pretty sure they've been planning this for _months_."

"Well," I admit, "it's not like I didn't make it easy for them." I hold up the necklace, which I had hurriedly re-wrapped. "It took me seven tries to get this thing right."

She giggles. I swoon. She swoons with me. "Well…these things happen. Anyways, though," she runs her hands down her dress, shakes herself loose, and takes a deep breath. "Well, Zuko, I believe you have something to ask me."

I nod. "Right." I clear my throat, and get down on my knees before her. She gasps a little as I do this, and her lips are trembling, and there are tears dancing in the corners of her eyes. For my part, I don't even know how my heart is beating so fast, when I'm not even fucking _breathing._

_But such is the way of things…_

"So…before I give my speech, you promise to let my finish it?"

She nods and she smiles and that seems to be all she can do because she's not breathing either. I try to take a deep breath, but I get nothing, just tension and nerves and I'm pretty sure I'm about to pass out but damned if I'm going to let that happen.

_After all, uncle's watching…_

Slowly, carefully, with shaking hands, I unwrap the necklace. I lift it up to her, and she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, and I swear she actually goes white a sheet, and for a second, I'm afraid _she's_ going to be the one to pass out, but I press on, because getting this done is the only way I have of saving us _both_.

"Katara, I-"

"Yes."

I blink. I have no idea what's going on.

"Umm…what?"

She's nodding frantically, as if she's try get in every nod she'll ever have for the rest of her life in under five seconds. Tears are falling down her face and her hands are over her mouth and she's smiling and she's vibrating like at any minute she's going to start jumping up and down and then she's nodding some more and saying it again.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

Her voice is choked with tears and joy and I just want to die right then and there, _because it can't get any better than this, right?_

_ But then I'd miss tomorrow…_

_ And what could be better than that?_

I sigh, my head swimming as oxygen finally returns to my blood. "You know, you promised that you'd let me finish my speech for once…"

She rolls her eyes, throwing her whole body into the gesture. "Yeah, well, _I lied._" And with that, she reaches down, grabs me by the front of my shirt, and pulls me to my feet. And then my arms around her body and hers are around my neck and her lips are on mine or maybe mine are on hers but all I know is that it is the best kiss I've ever had in my entire life…

_The final kiss of one life…_

_ The first kiss of another…_

_ Gods, I love this woman…_

We finally pull apart, and we're both crying, pretty much in hysterics. She snatches the necklace out of my hands, and she's running her fingers over the stone and every other second she's kissing me again or maybe I'm kissing her or _I don't even know like it fucking matters anymore…_

"It's…it's beautiful, Zuko. It's just…_it's gorgeous_. I love it." She smiles, kisses me. _"I love you."_

I wrap one arm around her and join her and running my fingers over the stone and kiss her right back.

"I'm glad you like it." I pull away, face serious. "Now, you don't have to take off your mother's, I don't expect that, you can just keep this, or turn it into something else, or whatever, but I still want you to have it and keep it."

She rolls her eyes and kisses me once more. "Oh, you idiot, of _course_ I'm going to wear it. Otherwise, when we have a daughter, how is she going to inherit my mother's if I'm still wearing it?" She pushes me way gently, making sure to steal a few more kisses before I get out of range. "Now, here's the big moment: _You have to put it on._"

And with trembling hands, I do just that. With equally trembling hands, Katara removes her mother's necklace, and then I'm clasping our necklace (_because that's what it is, __**our necklace**_) into place and I'm stepping back and she's looking at herself in the mirror Toph never bothered to get rid of and fresh tears are pouring down her face and she's hurling herself into my arms and I hold her tight and she holds me and _we're never going to let each other go…_

_ "It's beautiful," _she whispers into my neck. _"I love it. I love it and I love you and just…"_

I bury my face in her hair and kiss the top of her head and hold on for dear life.

_"I know," _I whisper back. _"I know, and I love you, so much…"_ I turn my cheek, whisper into her ear, _"Stay with me forever?"_

She giggles, her breath hot on my skin.

_"Duh."_

Which was all the answer I needed.

And somehow, through it all, I don't know how, but I swear, I swear today and tomorrow and for the rest of my life, and when I get to the Spirit World, I'm going to ask him, because, out of the corner of my eye, I saw…

_I saw my uncle, one arm around my aunt and one arm around Lu Ten, and they're just laughing and clapping and happy as could be…_

_ Happy as could be…_

_**Like me…**_

* * *

So…yeah…you got some feels? _I got some feels._

There's not much to say here. I don't think that chapter needs commentary. Do you? _I don't._

In the next chapter, it's time for us to find out why you shouldn't let Toph or Sokka plan either your bachelor party or your bachelorette party. Stay tuned!


	56. Chapter 56

56. "SO," SOKKA SAYS, EYES CLAMPED ON THE HOLE IN THE ICE AS HE PASSES THE BOTTLE BACK TO ME, "I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU." He mulled on that for a moment, pursing his lips in thought, before adding, "In fact, now that I think about it, every dude in the entire _tribe_ has a bone to pick with you."

I take a swig from the bottle, wondering, not the first time, how the hell it was that I came to actually _enjoy_ the swill they called _liquor_ in the Southern Water Tribes. "Well," I reply, swirling the bottle around and finding myself very satisfied at the sound it made, "since we're on the subject, I have a bone to pick with _you_."

His eyes go wide, and his mouth drops open in shock. "What? With me? Why?"

I wave the bottle around, taking in our surroundings. Not far away from the edge of the village, there's a moderately-sized lake, which at this time of year is completely frozen over, down at least a foot or two, even out here in the middle. We're perched on two stools, passing a bottle back in forth (_with several re-fills in a sack at Sokka's feet_), staring at a big, carefully cut hole in the ice, where icy black water moves gently in the breeze, along with virtually nothing else. It's very cold, and a solid ceiling of rolling dark clouds holds a threat of snowfall in our near future. I'm bundled up in heavy winter clothes, complete with a thick fur-lined parka whose hood I've put up against the wind. For a moment, I contemplate the picture of the former heir to the throne of the Fire Nation wrapped up in Water Tribe clothes and colors, and push it aside before the thought can make me burst into hysterics.

Instead, I focus on the task at hand, mainly explaining my beef with my erstwhile best friend.

"Hmm…let's see…" I make a big show of thinking things through, tapping a gloved finger lightly on my chin. "I guess my big issue is that I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm bored, we've been staring at the same fucking hole in the ice for two fucking hours, and…oh!" I feel my face break into a sarcastic grin. "Did I mention that I'm fucking _cold?_ That seems to be important."

Sokka shrugs, unperturbed by my little hissy fit. "Yeah, so? It's the South, you _know_ it gets cold as _balls_ this time of year. I mean, you were here last winter, and I didn't hear you complaining."

"That's because, _last winter_, rather than freeze to death on a frozen pond, I just snuggled up with your sister, which, I might add, was _far_ more pleasant."

He grimaces, making a retching sound in the back of his throat. "Gods, _please_ don't elaborate on that sentence, like, _ever._ Seriously. Nevermind the fact that this is a _lake_, not a fucking _pond._"

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Point is, aren't you supposed to be throwing me some kind of party or some shit?"

"Yeah," he says, nodding eagerly, eyes gleaming, "a bachelor party."

I wave the bottle again, making sure he comprehends just how disappointing this setting is. "And, what, this is it?"

He laughs, expression communicating just how absurd he finds the idea. "Don't you know anything about bachelor parties?"

"No, not really."

He scoffs. "What, they don't party in the Fire Nation?"

I sigh. "Sokka, again, I remind you that I was _royalty_. Royalty don't really _party._"

He pops an eyebrow. "No shit? What do you do, then?"

I shrug, taking another swig from the bottle. "Lots of really boring stuff, though it generally had the advantage of taking place _inside_."

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "_Wusses._"

"Oh, blow me."

"Hey! I thought I told you to stop talking about my sister! Also," he reaches out and snatches the bottle back, taking a big gulp, "_share_, jerkbender."

"Fuck you," I snap, swiping the bottle right back and taking an even _bigger_ gulp, "I'll share when the party starts."

He growls, yanking the bottle from my hand. "Need I remind you," he says, eyes still strangely gleaming, in a way that I don't quite trust, "that, as the best man and the guy who's in charge of all this, _I'm_ the one who says when the party starts."

I make a grab for the bottle, and we wrestle over it for a moment before I win and take a triumphant pull. "Alright, _Almighty Lord Sokka_, has the party started?"

He shrugs. "Meh. I haven't decided yet."

I have to let out a huff at that. "Well, doesn't _that_ fill me with hope." Feeling like I've scored some sort of victory (_though I'm fucked if I know what victory that was_), I hand the bottle back over, pulling a cigarette from the pack in my coat pocket and fumbling with my glove for a moment before I manage to get a finger out for a light. "So, what was the bone _you_ had to pick with me?"

He laughs. "Well, not to put too fine a point on it," he rounds on me, leaning into my face, a serious glare twisting his features, "_you've ruined it for everyone._"

I rear back in surprise. "_Me? _How the fuck did I manage to do that?"

He rights himself on his stool, taking a long drink before setting the bottle down between us. "By spending months carving the most awesome betrothal necklace anyone's seen around here in _generations._"

"And how the fuck does that ruin anything for anyone?"

"Because, for the past two months, Katara has done nothing but show that necklace off to, like, _every fucking girl in the tribe!_ And now, every fucking girl in the tribe wants one of their own! Shit," he jabs a finger at me, waving it through the air to underline his point, "just last week, one of my buddies was with his girlfriend, and she was all, _You know who has a beautiful betrothal necklace? Katara. That was so wonderful, what Zuko did for her. Don't you think so? I wish I had something like that…_" He pulls his finger back, crossing his arms and looking rather satisfied with himself. "Thus, you see? You've ruined it for everyone."

I know I shouldn't laugh, but I do. I have a nice, good, long laugh over the idea that something I did could become a source for envy for other women. _Though the way that Katara parades that necklace around probably has a lot to do with it._ "What," I say around my laughter, "I've ruined things by helping revive an ancient tradition?"

He sighs. "I knew you wouldn't see sense."

I reach over, pat him on the shoulder. "Hey, I get it. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Tell the guys I apologize for the pain I'm bringing them."

His dour expression starts to turn then, so slowly I don't even notice it at first. The aggrieved eyes and the drawn lips start to twist and turn, melting into something that I'm not entirely sure what to do with.

"Well," he says, nodding thoughtfully, "you could always apologize yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Fine, I won't complain the next time you guys gang up on me at a _haavipallo _game."

I know what the expression on his face is now. I know what it is, _and I don't like it at all. _The look is, for lack of a better term, _a fucking leer._

_ I knew it…_

_ I fucking knew it…_

"You could do that," he says, his voice an innocent whistle, "or, you know, you could start your penance right now…"

I blink.

"What now?"

And that's when the sack slides over my head and I'm tackled do the ground and the whole would goes dark.

_Shit…_

_ Alright…_

_ This is…__**promising**__..._

There follows about an hour of laughing, giggling, and jostling as I'm carried to some undisclosed location. Through the cloth around me head, I recognize the voices of just about every guy my age in the village. They're obviously a bit tipsy and very excited, giggling like little kids who just stole some candy, babbling happily in their tribal dialect until Sokka rounds on them (_at least, that's what he does in my head_) and barks, "You idiots know he speaks our dialect better than we do, right?" After that, the voices get softer, though no less giddy and amused.

I feel it's important to say that, at no point, am I frightened or intimidated. The joyful atmosphere is palpable, even through the sack, and it's incredibly infectious. Sure, I'm being carried over crunching snow and through bitter cold like a sack of potatoes, but I can't help but enjoy myself. I have no idea what's going to happen, and I don't particularly care. Come sundown tomorrow, I'm going to be married to the most beautiful, smart, amazing, intelligent woman in the world, a fate I don't even _remotely_ deserve, but tonight?

_Tonight I'm going to have fun…_

My journey comes to an end when I'm roughly deposited on what feels like yet another rickety stool and the sack is unceremoniously ripped off my head. I have to blink a few times until I can get a good view of where I am. Wherever that happens to be, it's outside of the village. I'm in a big, empty bowl, ringed about with a round, circular ridge. Snow-dappled trees whisper in the wind, and behind me, I can feel the heat from a big bonfire. I look around, and see about twenty or so young men, mostly members of the tribe, but I spot a few of the younger members of my remaining crew, all trying their best to look serious and failing miserably. Bottles are being passed back and forth, and one of the boys shoves one into my hand and says around his giggles, "Drink up, dude! It's your party!" I laugh and flip him off, before, naturally, taking his advice.

Finally, I turn my attention to center stage. There, Sokka stands, tall and proud, glowering in his best impression of his father, which, I have to admit, is remarkably good. In his hand, he holds a rather ornate-looking scroll, which he is tapping rather grimly on his hip. I'm tempted to applaud the display, but after realizing that that would merely spoil the proceedings, I straighten my back and brush my hands over my clothes, doing my best to look dignified.

Sokka clears his throat, which plunges the assembly into respectful silence. He lets it drag on for a few moments, clearly enjoying being the center of attention, before clearing his throat once more and directing the full force of his glare upon me.

"Gentlemen-"

_"Gentlemen?! Where?! I thought this was supposed to be a party!"_ I don't look back to see which wit tossed out this bit of humor, but happily join in the outbreak of laughter that greets it, until Sokka glares us back into silence.

Once more, there's a highly theatric clearing of the throat (_is he making fun of me, because if so, damn, I hope I don't really do that that often…_), after which he tries again.

"Right. _Gentlemen_, we are gathered here today to stand in judgment upon one Zuko, son of some monumental prick whose name I forget. This Zuko stands accused of a series of most heinous crimes, a list of which I shall shortly pretend to read off this scroll, even though the scroll is blank and I just memorized it beforehand. Zuko, have you anything to say for yourself before we begin?"

I hoist my bottle into the air and shout, "I regret nothing! Bring it on!" This elicits thunderous applause from the assembly, along with a chorus of catcalls and a few scattered shouts of _Hear, hear!_

Sokka leveled the scroll at me like a spear. "Behold! The criminal condemns himself with his very first words!"

"Then let's get on to the punishment!" someone shouts, to enthusiastic support. Sokka responds by raising a hand.

"Now, now, we'll get to that, I promise. First, we all need to know what we're punishing him for."

"I have to admit," I say, doing nothing to hide my amusement, "I'm intensely curious."

"Then get on with it, already!" another wit shouts, to another round of cheers.

"Come on guys," I reason, "we won't get anywhere if we don't let the man speak!"

"Eh, he's already said enough already," someone entirely different points out.

"True," I admit, "but the guy _did_ memorize a fucking list, why not reward that much effort?"

"It's not like he puts much effort into anything else!" This comment receives quite a bit of positive reinforcement, along with the follow-up jeer, "Except eating!"

Sokka nods appreciatively, patting his stomach. "Hey, keeping my girlish good looks is hard work. Don't knock my intensive, carefully thought-out diet. I put _countless hours_ of thought and effort into what I put into my mouth, mostly while I'm eating it, sure, but hey, it's the little things that count. Now, can I read the fucking charges already?"

I shrug, wave him on. "Hey, don't let me stop you."

He bows his head. "Thank you. Now," he continues, dropping his voice into a deep, authoritative cadence while unrolling the scroll and holding it very ceremoniously in front of him, "the charges:

"Charge one: That the aforementioned criminal, Zuko, son of that son-of-a-bitch from that weird, gods-forsaken country that shall remain unmentioned, has made himself unfairly useful to our beloved, perfect, pristine tribe of good, honest, hard-working and virtuous men and women, as shown by the fact that it took us for-fucking-_ever_ to get that gods-damn bonfire lit without making him light it for us.

"Charge two: That this blight upon our community is guilty of being unfairly handsome, as well as strangely exotic, and thus is a distraction to our virtuous, unblemished women, who, contrary to every indication they have given over the past few millennia, are completely incapable of defending themselves from such a horror.

"Charge three: That this Zuko has shamed us all by giving his soon-to-be wife, my lovely, innocent, helpless sister-" _(a comment which causes someone to shout, "Don't let her hear you say that!")_ "-a betrothal gift that has become the envy of the tribe, in no small part due to the effort, thought, and love that went into its creation, thus making all of us look bad.

"Charge four: That this dirty, uncouth bastard has sparked a revival of interest in learning and education among our people, and thus given us poor souls _one more fucking thing_ that we have to learn, if we don't want to look bad.

"Charge five: That this strange, unnatural individual, the aforementioned Zuko, son of some up-jumped turd, has brought a blight upon our community in the form of the young girl Toph Bei Fong, an action for which we will be paying for generations to come."

I have to grimace, nod, and say, "Yeah, well, you got me there."

Sokka grins. "I know, right? Toph made me put that one in, by the way."

"Heh…did she spell out the phrasing, too?"

"Duh. Like she was going to pass that up. _Anyways…_

"Charge six: That this half-blind foreign asshole has, in the past year-and-a-half, performed incredible feats of sacrifice, bravery, and friendship, and thus become a source of inspiration and awe for our community, while also making us feel a bit like unaccomplished twats.

"Charge seven: In perhaps the most outrageous act thus far, this idiot did, through constant respect and just in general being a decent guy, manage to win the undying approval of my father, the chief, which means that I haven't been able to beat his ass half as much as I should be able to.

"Charge eight: That you, Zuko, your piece of bizarrely nice-looking dog-shit, which you shouldn't be good looking, because look at that weird mop on your head, anyways, I'm getting off topic, you, Zuko, are _totally_ guilty of being an awesome friend, because, I mean, I can fucking _swordfight_ now, and how cool is that? So even _if_ I was allowed to beat your ass, I wouldn't want to, and how frustrating is that?

"Charge nine: In a very serious breach of the _Bro Code_, you, Zuko, _you asshole_, have, through a series of actions that not even the most jealous dude can find fault with, managed to remove from the dating scene the world's most beautiful, smart, intelligent, just all-around _fucking awesome_ woman to have ever lived, and that's just not cool, I mean, look at these long faces!"

I do, and they put on a good show of looking depressed, and then we all burst into hysterics, before turning our attention back to Sokka.

"And, last but certainly not least, the tenth and final charge: You, Zuko, stand accused of being the kind of guy that I am proud, excited, and honored to call my brother-in-law, because fuck knows none of _these_ assholes would ever have made the cut." With a great deal of flair, Sokka then crumples the scroll into a ball and hurls it over my head and into the fire. We all _ooh_ and _ahh_ at that, and there's scattered applause, and then we prepare for the final act.

"So," Sokka says, stepping forward and drawing himself up to his full height, "how does the criminal plead?"

I drain what's left of the bottle (_and where the fuck did all of that go?_), hurling myself to my feet and tossing the bottle away. I pull myself up, head high, shoulders back, spine straight, and call forth in my loudest, most prince-like voice, _"Guilty as charged!"_

Sokka nods, looking very grave. "Are you prepared for your punishment?"

I smile. "I've been looking forward to it all day."

"Excellent! Then I, Sokka, in my capacity as best man and with absolutely no authority whatsoever, do hereby sentence you to get just completely blind, stupid drunk, after which you will perform an act of humiliation the likes of which you can't even _begin_ to imagine." He looks beyond me, stretching his arms and shouting, _"Anyone have any problems with that!"_

As one, the entire assembly screams, _"Fuck no!"_

Sokka pumps his fists into the air. "Alright! _Then let's get this fucking party started!"_

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I ended up running butt naked through the streets of the village, trailed by about twenty other similarly dressed individuals, and oh, I think there were, like, a whole bunch of others, who weren't invited, but whatever, point is, see? It wasn't my fault. _Honest._

_**Really.**_

Which, sure, doesn't really even _begin_ to touch on how all the young women of the tribe, and far too many of just, like, every _other_ woman in the tribe, came to be lined along the path, hurling things at us. Did I mention that it was cold? I feel like that's important.

_Like, really important…_

Oh, and don't blame me for the drunken, naked serenade we all performed outside of Hakoda's house, while my future wife and Toph and all of their friends hurled catcalls and dog whistles and all kinds of comments that I won't bother to recite here (_mostly because I don't remember them_) down upon us. Oh, and they had our clothes. I'm not sure how that happened.

Did I forget anything? Oh, right, the kidnapping. Little known fact, on the night before the wedding, a Water Tribe boy (_at least in the South_) is supposed to try to kidnap is bride-to-be. Traditionally, this is an abject failure, since everyone's too drunk to plan anything, and it's mostly about putting on a good show for everyone watching the antics. But, seeing as I'm not Water Tribe, Toph decided to convince Katara to kidnap _me_, which went off just as hilariously as one would imagine.

_Was there anything else?_ Eh, probably, but who cares? Point is, I woke up sprawled, for the second time in my life, underneath a table beside Sokka, with a killer hangover, and a big smile on my face.

Then I remembered that I was about to get married, and I got terrified all over again.

* * *

So, yeah, sorry about the delay, but life got in the way for a few days there. My bad! But I promise, promise, promise, _fucking promise,_ that you'll get the wedding either tomorrow or Wednesday.

_Promise, guys._

For those curious, yes, after the wedding, _which will be all kinds of fluffy goodness_, we will resume the attempt to solve the mystery of the Avatar, during which I will lay a twist on your asses that will leave you reeling.

In the next chapter, we get a wedding, and potentially an overdose of fluff. Stay tuned!


	57. Chapter 57

57. THE DAY OF MY WEDDING, IT SNOWED.

For every push, there is a pull. For every yin, there is a yang. And for every element, there is another that exists in opposition. For fire, there is water. Royal weddings have been canceled at the mere _threat_ of clouds.

But I was not getting married in the Fire Nation; I was getting married among the Water Tribes, and not just any Water Tribes, but the _Southern _Water Tribes, where the gods are real and the spirits are never far away. Belief and faith are everything, and the slightest thing can communicate doom.

And that's why, when I stepped outside of the house that evening, Sokka by my side, I looked out on a winter wonderland, a light snowfall drifting down from the heavens, and my heart leaped up out of my chest and danced a jig upon my tongue.

_Perfect._

Beside me, Sokka gasped, a deep, sharp intake of breath that he let out in a slow, even whistle. "Wow," he said, eyes wide with wonder. "Just…_wow._"

I nod, my smile so wide that I half expect it to crack my face in two. "You took the words right out of my mouth, man."

He chuckles, reaches out and grasps my shoulders, turning us both so that we're facing each other. His expression is calm and relaxed, his grip on my shoulders firm and strong. I have to admit, he looks magnificent, from head-to-toe the proud chief that I know he wants more than anything to become. White dots of fluff bend and weave through the air, settling on his clothes and sliding off his immaculate wolf-tail.

"You know what this means, right?" His voice is light, and his eyes are sparkling. I can't help but suspect that he's resisting the urge to burst into tears.

I reach up, grip his shoulders right back. "Of course I do. It's…" I scan the world, look out on an endless carpet of crisp, pure white snow, and sigh. "It's a good omen."

He laughs. "Dude, it's the _best_ possible omen one could have. It's…it's even better than _rain_, Zuko. It's…" He fumbles, his voice catching in his throat. We look at each other for what feels like a long time, until the emotions held so carefully in check burst forth and become something I can't even _begin_ to describe. Without hesitation, without words, we embrace, arms tight around each other, until it starts to hurt, and even then? _We just keep on._

_ We keep on embracing like brothers…_

We pull apart, laughing and doing our best to hide the tears in our eyes. We give ourselves a shake and make silent promises to never let each other live this moment down. Then, we brush ourselves off and pull ourselves up and straighten our backs and it's time to start.

In the Fire Nation, at least among the nobility, weddings are considered family affairs. It's all about the joining of two clans, and everything revolves around the conceit. Even my parents probably didn't have more than a dozen or so people at their weddings.

_The Southern Water Tribes don't work like that…_

In the Southern Water Tribes, your family is not your immediate blood relatives; no, it's your village, your tribe, _your people_. Everyone comes, everyone turns out, everyone celebrates, which is how I came to have a wedding that I like to think the highest born Fire Nation noble would have envied.

I collect my crew outside of my house. Everyone, including me, is dressed in native colors, a riot of blues and whites. My boys bow to me as I approach, and I bow back, then, Sokka to my left, I lead the way, my boys lining up behind me.

The walk to the chief's house isn't long, but it takes a while. Before us, a shaman walks, beating a slow, even beat on a drum, to ward off evil spirits. We march in time to the drum, each _boom_ a step. At every house we pass, families come out, dressed in their best, joining the procession, men on the left, women on the right, though the women don't have anyone to form up behind.

_Yet…_

The village has been transformed, and not just by the snow. From the front of every home, handcrafted talismans hand, tiny bells chiming delicately as bits of snow collide with them, sending forth the message that evil spirits are not welcome here today. Everyone walks, slow, beat-by-beat, step-by-step, the snow fluttering and swirling around us, light enough to not be a hindrance and heavy enough to be beautiful. No one talks, no one mutters, no one even coughs. We just march, in time, together, step-by-step, heads held high and eyes bright.

It's…it's hard to describe how I'm feeling, at that moment. It's like…nothing I could ever put into words. My chest is hot and heavy, my heart feeling as if it's grown three sizes too big, leaving my breath tight and sharp in my throat. I remember it being hard to breath, hard to even _think_. I remember feeling giddy and light-headed. I remember being terrified that I would screw up, take a wrong step, speak a wrong word. I remember wondering why I didn't feel at all cold. I remember my brain thinking of minor, inconsequential things, like how well my topknot was holding up, what with the snow, or what would happen if the shaman missed a beat, would we have to stop?

_And most of all, I just thought about her…_

Outside Hakoda's house, all was calm, quiet, still. The outside was practically dripping with talismans, the bells making a song as soft and lilting as children laughing in a distant hallway. Before the door, Bato, the chief's childhood friend, stood, expression cool, a sparkle hidden in the depths of his eyes. When the procession reached the house, everyone stopped. The shaman beat a few more times, uttered a prayer, and stood away to the side, where a woman shaman stood, holding her own drum.

Sokka and I stepped forward. Bato looked us up and down, before intoning in a clear, ringing voice, deep as a canyon and loud enough for all to hear, "Who comes here on such a day?"

I take one step forward, my spine twitching from the urge to bow. "I, Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa, present myself before you."

Bato nods, lips pursed in consideration. "And who will vouch for this man?"

Sokka steps to my side. "I, Sokka, son of Hakoda, son of Kya, do vouch for this man."

Bato nods once more. "Very well." He turns back to me. "With what purpose to you present yourself at this house today?"

I take a deep breath, willing my heart to stop trying to crawl up and out of my throat. "I, Zuko, come to take the hand of Katara, daughter of this house, in marriage."

Bato swings back to Sokka. "Does this man speak the truth?"

"He does," Sokka answers without hesitation.

"Have the forms been followed?"

"They have."

Bato turns towards the assembled crowd, addresses himself to them. "Does any objection exist, from any man or woman or child, that would give cause for Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa, to be turned away?"

No one speaks, no one moves, no one breathes (_or maybe that's just me_). All the reply that Bato receives is a warm, receptive silence, and the tinkling of bells in the wind.

"Very well." With that, Bato turns on his heel, and strides to the door. He raises a fist, and knocks, hard and forceful, once, twice, thrice. The door opens, and Kanna steps into view.

"Why do you disturb the peace of this house?" she asks, in a voice thick with barely restrained emotion.

"A young man has come to take a daughter of this house's hand in marriage," Bato intones.

"And who is this young man?"

"One Zuko, son of Iroh, son of Ursa. Is this young man known to this house?"

"This young man is known to this house."

"Is this young man's request welcome?"

"It is welcome."

"Then I humbly request that one Katara, daughter of Hakoda, daughter of Kya, come forth and meet her destiny."

Kanna doesn't reply at first. For a long, heavy moment, snow falls, bells sing, and I stop breathing. Her lips tremble, and she lifts a shaking hand, pats her steel grey hair, brushes a random strand back behind her ear. Finally, she takes a deep, shaky breath, a breath that mists in the air and looks like it hurts.

"She shall do so."

_My heart starts to beat again…_

Bato steps back from the door, positioning himself to the left. Behind him comes Kanna, who stands to the right, unashamedly batting tears from her eyes. Next is Toph, dressed in Water Tribe colors and looking quite incredible, her hand on the shoulder of a little girl who leads her over to the right. Toph actually makes me smile, winking at me as she takes her place. It's the last conscious, real thought I have for a while, because the next person who steps out is Hakoda, who steps to the left and offers his arm and someone is coming out and taking that arm and she's smiling at me and…and…_and…_

_ Oh, gods…_

The dress is long, with a short train behind it. Her hair is perfect, flowing like a waterfall of delicately arranged brown that shimmers with every move she makes. The dress itself is perfect; it fits her like a second skin, and manages to drink in the light of the torches that illuminate the proceedings. Our betrothal necklace shines like a second sun, obviously freshly cleaned and polished. She is just…just…_just…_

_ Perfect…_

I fall in love with her all over again, right then and there. I can't look away. I can't think. I can't function. I can't move. For a brief, terrifying second, the whole world stops, and I know, just fucking _know_, that this is all a dream, that at any second I'll shake myself awake, and I'll be back in the Fire Nation, alone and miserable, which is all I really deserve, right? There's no fucking _way_ I'm worthy of this, of this destiny, of this happiness, of this hope, of this future…

_Of her…_

But then I look into her eyes, and she looks into mine, and I see the same fears swirling in those depths, those endless depths that I've been lost in for so long now, that I never want to find my way out of, I see the fear that I'll turn and bolt, that she'll wake up, too. I see other things, too. I see love, I see warmth, I see the laughter of our children and the warmth of our bed and the feel of my arms around her as her head settles into the crook of my shoulder and her hair tickles my nose and so much more, _so much more._

_ But I don't see any doubts…_

_ And I don't feel any doubts…_

_**I am finally home…**_

She's standing before me. I don't know how that happened. We blink in unison, as if we had both just kind of _blanked_ for a moment there. Everyone seems to notice, and a chorus of titters ripples through the crowd. Bato clears his throat and Toph bites her lip as she tries not to laugh and I wonder if I'm blushing as much as Katara is. The blush kind of scares me, I won't lie; whenever she blushes, she always tries to hide it by tucking some hair behind her ear. I love it, I do, when she does that, but the thing is…

_If she does that, I'm pretty sure I'm going to faint…_

Sokka is speaking. His voice almost makes me jump out of my skin.

"Father Hakoda, do you find this man acceptable?"

Hakoda nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in his desire to smile.

"I do."

"Do you have any objection?"

"I do not."

Sokka turns to his sister, tossing her a big wink which makes her blush even harder and her lip trembles as she resists the urge to bite it and I just about pass out right then and there.

"Sister Katara, do you find this man acceptable?"

Her smile grows wider and she takes a deep breath and she says, in a voice meant only for me, "I do."

"Do you have any objection?"

"I do not."

Finally, it's my turn. Sokka turns to me, and asks, in a grave voice that does not at _all_ match his eyes, "Friend Zuko, do you still wish to meet your destiny today?"

And without hesitation, I answer.

"I do."

And with that, everyone steps back, leaving only Hakoda, Katara, and I, the eye of the storm. Hakoda smiles at us, takes his daughter's hand, and places it in mine. He gives his daughter a kiss on the forehead, and shakes my free hand, and then he wipes a tear from his eye and steps back and it's time to continue.

The procession to the Spirit Oasis is longer than the procession to the house, and by the end of it, I'm pretty sure there's a not a soul in the village who's not following behind us. The drumbeat continues, only with two drums now, and now the women's side of the procession has someone to follow. Katara and I lead the way, slowing marching down through and out of the village, past the houses, past the shack where we truly met, past chiming bells and snow sliding softly off the roofs and into the street. There's a lot going on, really. There are ritual chants, passed back and forth between the men and the women. There's Toph voice, a barely restrained snicker, as she struggles hold herself in for once. There's laughter and smiles and blessings. The atmosphere is much more relaxed now that the suitor's request has been accepted; no one really thought it would be refused, but still, there's a tradition to be followed, here as much as anywhere else. So, yeah, all of this happening, all while the snow falls and the clouds darken and the glow of the moon starts to make itself known through that endless, rippling ceiling. More torches are lit, and are carried, and the world seems to dance in time with the drums.

_But I don't see any of that…_

All I see is the woman beside me, her left arm threaded carefully through my right one. I see snowflakes dappling her hair, and I see us constantly stealing looks at each other. I see her smile and I feel my own and I feel the tightness of her grip on my arm and the way her head tilts slightly towards my shoulder, out of habit, as if all she wants to do is rest it there and keep walking until we can't walk anymore. And I see her silly smile and I feel my big goofy grin and I feel how hot my face feels and I see the blush in her own and I just don't want this to ever end.

_Ever…_

_ And it won't…_

_**Ever…**_

When my crew and I got iced in up in the North during my second winter in exile, boredom got the better of me one day when my uncle, as giddy as a schoolboy, was finally told that he would be allowed to visit the Spirit Oasis there. Normally, such spiritual matters hold no interest for me, and it didn't help that I'd seen plenty of Spirit Oases before. Of course, this was _the_ Spirit Oasis, where apparently the Spirits of the Moon and the Ocean actually existed in physical form, forever in balance to one another, forever together, forever in sync, but, I mean, _still._ And I have to admit, it was an incredible experience. Even in my skepticism borne of the unpleasantness of my life thus far, I had to admit that it was beautiful, and moving, and I couldn't help but view the two koi fish who were supposedly the actual gods Tue and La themselves and feel an incredible sense of awe.

The Spirit Oasis of the Yuupik tribe is nothing like that. There are no gods, it's not in some cool, immaculately maintained cave, it's not literally thousands of years old, _it's none of that._ It's just a small spring, a pool, really, surrounded by carefully trimmed trees, one side open, like a small theater out in the forest. It is, in short, the most beautiful place I've ever seen.

No, it's not _The_ Spirit Oasis, it's just _our_ Spirit Oasis, which is so much better.

I've said before that the Southern Water Tribes aren't big on ceremony, especially when compared to my homeland (_after all, among nobility, there are three hours of rituals to go through on the day of the wedding before the bride and groom even __**meet**_), and the wedding itself bears that out. First, the chief shaman, who's waiting for us, uses some arcane form of bending to open a hole in the clouds and confirm that, yes, the moon has risen, and it is full, and that the omens are auspicious and that the wedding should continue. Then he turns back to us and leads the entire tribe in prayer, and then there's…

There's…

_There's…_

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I didn't pay attention to any of it. Once the shaman had Katara and I face each other, hands clasped together, I barely remember a thing. She's the same; we laugh about it all the time. Here was this beautiful ceremony, widely considered by all to be the most beautiful, amazing ceremony in recent memory, and everyone just loving the young couple, and marveling at how we never took our eyes off each other, and how we said our lines perfectly, and never seemed to want to let each other go, and how even the shaman himself was moved to tears, and…well…_it's all a bit of a blur to me._

All either of us clearly remembered during the ceremony was each other, because, after all, that's all that mattered.

_That's why we were here…_

There's one moment I'll never forget, until the day I die. The shaman launched into his final words, arms raised, and it felt like the entire world had just disappeared and fallen away, almost like it'd never really existed in the first place.

"And now, in the sight of all the gods and the spirits and in the eyes of our people, going back to the beginning and going forward to the end, I hereby pronounce you man and wife." He lowered his hands, bowed his head, and with a smile said the words we'd been dying to hear.

"You may kiss the bride."

And then we were stepping towards each other, and our hands were circling each other's faces and her skin was warm _so warm_ and I whispered, _I love you_, and she giggled and whispered back, _I love you, too_, and then I kissed the bride and the bride kissed me.

We didn't stop until the shaman finally coughed loud enough to get our attention. We pulled away, and I took her hand, and we turned to face the tribe and we lifted our hands together and the shaman spread his arms and said, "I present you Zuko and Katara, man and wife," and every throat cheered and chanted our names and Toph was crying like a baby and Hakoda couldn't stop smiling and when Sokka bounded up and hugged me I thought he was going to break me and then Katara and I were kissing again and it was the best day of my life.

The cheers went on, on and on and on and on, like the end of the world, because it was, the end of two lives, and the beginning of one.

_Us…_

_ Ours…_

_ We…_

And did we spot my uncle, somewhere out there, just out of sight, hovering at the corners of our eyes? Well, I'm not telling, and neither is Katara.

_That's ours._

* * *

So, I have got, like, _all the fucking feels right now, guys._ Like, for reals. It doesn't help that it's pretty much official that my girl and I are going to head down to Mexico either next summer or the one following and have this huge, awesome, just gorgeous traditional Mexican Catholic wedding and I'm totally picturing that in my head while I write this and I makes me want to go be all cute and couply.

So…_yeah_. See? I promised you a wedding, and an overdose of fluff, and I like to think I delivered. If anyone is unsatisfied, I apologize, only not really, _because that shit was off the hook._

*ahem* _Anyways_…

Fun Fact: I almost didn't write this. I was so intimidated at the thought of trying to put this wedding into words, that I almost just wrote a chapter about the reception, and had everyone going on about how nice the wedding was. Then I realized that I'm pretty sure you'd guys hunt me down and kill me with fire, so I decided to take a chance. Woo!

In the next chapter, we skip ahead a year, and the search for the Avatar nears its conclusion, along with this story. There will be a twist! Stay tuned!


	58. Chapter 58

58. A YEAR PASSED. There are a lot of reasons why. A lot of them are rock solid, and I stand by them. Others are pretty weak, all things considered, but I still stand by them.

If anything, I stand by the weaker reasons more than anything in the world.

A big part of it was that it took a year for the world to return to anything even remotely resembling normality. That year was filled to the brim with wars and rumors of war. Demobilized soldiers and desperate refugees took to piracy; more than once, the men of the tribe, of whom I was now considered one of, took to the seas to deflect a raid. It took most of that year after my wedding for all of that to settle down, for my father's fleet to well and truly flex its muscles and sweep the ocean clean. After that, came trade, and news from the outside, most of it bad. Rebellion continued to simmer in the Earth Kingdom; for every general or noble who bent the knee, there was another who took to the hills and fought on. From time-to-time, a boatload of these rebels would stop in the South, recruiting, asking for help, generally in vain. There was always a restless young man or two who ran off and joined them, but by and large, everyone felt that further struggle was pointless, especially if the world couldn't find a way to stand together.

Another reason was simply that we were needed. As trade resumed, it turned out that not only was there seemingly not a single merchant house that Toph's family hadn't had some connection to, but she also seemed to have a carefully concealed talent for schmoozing, never mind how useful her earthbending abilities were at…well…_everything._ Sokka was always hard at work, helping his father rebuild the tribe. Katara worked almost day-and-night, it seemed, trying to make sure that her waterbending skills lacked nothing, and that the healers would not miss her, if she had to leave for extended period of time.

Even I proved invaluable, much to my surprise. I pretty much became the tribe's teacher, giving lessons in everything from languages to reading and writing to advanced swordsmanship to, gods forbid, mathematics. My biggest project, by far, consisted of some tense and delicate negotiations with the viceroy when he finally arrived, during which Katara and I spent an unnecessary number of hours convincing him that allowing teachers from the North to come to the South would neither violate the treaty nor threaten the Fire Nation in any way. Even when his consent was finally given, it took time to send a delegation to the North, to get the Northern Water Tribes to agree (_which ended up being far more difficult than one would think_), and then to settle in the teachers once they arrived. There were cultural misunderstandings aplenty, and during the last years of my life, my friends, my wife, and I spent an unreasonable amount of time smoothing ruffled feathers.

Then, there was simply the fact that we just didn't know enough about the Avatar Cycle and Avatars in general to even have an _idea_ of what we were going to do when it came time to resume our search. We knew we would be going to the Inupiat tribe, our only lead as to the mystery of the boy named Aang, but what would we find when we got there? If he was dead, what was the next step? And what if he _wasn't_ dead? What if, through some quirk of fate, the hopeful _Savior of the World_ was some nearly one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old decrepit old man? What then?

Sokka, I think, made the best suggestion for that situation, one day when we were all gathered in my and Katara's house, eating dinner and debating the issue. He simply shrugged, laid a knife on the table, and said, around a mouth full of food, "Well, you know, I could just kill him. That'd make finding the next Avatar pretty easy."

It's revealing, I think, that we didn't toss the suggestion aside out of hand. The Battle of Patola had hardened many hearts, including our own. Sympathy for the boy named Aang was hard to find in that house.

And all of that isn't even touching on the fact that relations between the Yuupik and Inupiat tribes have never been particularly friendly. There has, apparently, been a long history, stretching back over centuries, of conflict between the two tribes, some of it bloody. Indeed, it's long been suspected that it was the Inupiat tribe that, for whatever reason, gave the information that brought the Southern Raiders down on my village, in the raid that ended when the head of Katara's mother was struck from her soldiers and carried off as a prize.

So, yeah, relations between the two tribes have always been a bit tense. Going poking around in their territory required some forethought and planning. Also, potentially, good timing.

Thus, as anyone can see, we had plenty of reasons for letting a year slide by. There was a lot to do, a lot to accomplish, and none of us felt particularly comfortable for quite some time with the idea of taking off on a quest that we might never come back from. Which is all well and good, until one has to confront the central truth that ran through all of our minds, all of our thoughts, all of our hearts:

_We, quite simply, didn't want to leave._

Toph, the boisterous, irrepressible girl, had somehow discovered a deep and abiding love for the Southern Water Tribes, even in the winter. She had friends her age, and a girlfriend from time-to-time, and she loved the freedom she had, loved how she was respected for herself, how she was never treated like a _little girl_, how the warriors of the tribe seemed to consider her their mascot. Many were the nights when she sat up drinking with them, coming up with endless new songs, many of them frightfully obscene, more than a few of them about Katara and I.

Sokka, meanwhile, was having to deal with the fact that he'd never really wanted to leave home. The Yuupik tribe was all he'd ever really known, and all he really _cared_ to know. He was seriously considering settling down, starting a family, well and truly beginning the process of inheriting his father's position as chief. He loved the games and the other warriors and his friends, and still hadn't gotten used to no longer being the only boy his age for miles around.

And then…well…_there was us._ Katara and I just really fucking loved being married to each other. We loved keeping house, cooking for each other, sharing a bed, sharing a life. We loved long nights spent snuggling, and long walks spent arm-in-arm, hand-in-hand. We felt liberated at the fact that there was no longer a faint air disapproval lingering around our living situation.

And there was this thing that would happen, every time Katara would come home from delivering a baby. I generally made dinner those nights, and I'd be just finishing up as she walked in. We embrace and we'd kiss and I'd look into her eyes, and she'd have this…this…_this glow_, this _brightness_ about her. There would be this lilt in her voice as she talked about her day, about the delivery, and there'd be a special heat between us when we went to bed that night. It was in those moments that the temptation to follow the second part of my promise to my uncle became almost overwhelming.

Because, yeah, we wanted a kid. _So sue us._

But in the end, our excuses grew stale, and thin, and worn out. The news from the rest of the world continued to be grim, and our hearts became heavy in our chests. Our sleep was troubled, and the weight upon our shoulders became unbearable. In the end, we could no longer ignore it. Which was why, one the first anniversary of our wedding, Katara and I called Sokka and Toph to our home. We made a simply dinner, which we all ate in heavy silence. When we were finished, I lit a fire, and we all settled down around it, facing each other, smoking, deep in thought.

I looked around the gathering, and couldn't help but marvel at how far I had come, how far _we_ had come, how close we had all grown. I watched Sokka sprawl in his chair, wondered at how Toph could tilt hers so far without giving in to the laws of physics, fell in love all over again with the way the light of the fire made Katara's face dance and weave in the stillness of the night. I reached over to her then, took her hand. She looked at me, she smiled, our fingers entwined around each other, and we leaned forward and shared a soft, sweet kiss. When we turned to the others, our hands did not part, which was easy.

Our chairs were always right next to each other.

"So," I said, a relaxed, slightly goofy grin on my face, "I'm sure you're wondering why Toph has gathered us all here today."

Toph rolled her eyes. "What did I tell you about stealing my lines, dick-face?"

Sokka shrugs, stifling a yawn before speaking. "Hey, fair play and all, right?"

Toph scoffs. "Since when the fuck did I care about fair play?"

Sokka nods. "Point."

Katara giggles, giving my hand a squeeze before clearing her throat. "Well, now that the preliminaries are out of way, it's time for us to actually get down to business."

Toph brightened, popping up in her chair. "Let me guess: _You guys are preggers!_"

Katara and I blinked in shocked, before blushing deeply. Katara's hand went to her stomach, her fingertips brushing lightly over her shirt, a light smile on her face, before she frowned and looked back to Toph. "Wait…am I?"

Toph shrugs. "The fuck should I know?"

"Can't you detect heartbeats and shit?" Sokka points out.

Another shrug. "I can, but I'm not getting an extra one in here. I guess I was just hopeful."

"Well," I admit, "you're not the only one, but _still_…"

"Wait," Sokka says, sitting up, his face suddenly serious, "you guys _are_ trying to get knocked up?"

Katara rolls her eyes. "Not to be picky about words, but _I'm_ the one who'd get knocked up. Zuko's just the one who'll have to deal with me."

Sokka frowns. "But…that means that you two…would have to…_ew._"

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake…_we are married_, you know. _That's what married people do._"

"Yeah," Sokka replies, looking a little petulant, "but that doesn't mean I wanna think about it."

"Then _don't_," Katara growls. "When it happens, just pretend that it's a miracle, a true even for the ages, and dream innocent dreams."

"Or grow the fuck up," Toph offers. "That's always an option."

"_Anyways_," I cut in, wondering where all my pleasant feelings about my friends went, "as fun as it is to make Sokka squirm, that's not why we're here tonight."

"I thought that's why we were wherever we happen to be, like, _every_ night?" Toph asks.

Katara laughs, and says to me, "She has a point."

Sokka just groans. "Can we get on with it already?"

"What," Toph replies, "making you squirm?"

He puts a hand to his face and sighs. "Oh, I'm sure you guys will have plenty of time for that in the coming weeks." He peeks through his fingers at his sister, a curious look on his face. "That is what this is about, right? It's time to go searching for that little shithead again."

"You know," I say, stubbing out my cigarette and moving my chair over so that I can put my arm around Katara, to which she responds by settling her head on my shoulder and laying her hand on my thigh, "you're going to feel pretty bad if it turns out he's dead."

Sokka frowns. "Honestly? No, I'm not, and if he's alive, I can't guarantee that I won't finish the job."

"You'll have to get in line behind me," Toph observes, jabbing a thumb to her chest.

"And possibly me," Katara says, a brittle coldness in her voice, her hand squeezing my thigh, "but that's neither here nor there. The point is, the world needs the Avatar, however imperfect he may be, and we need to find him."

"Or," I continue, "if he's dead, find the next one, or the next one after that."

Sokka chuckles. "Heh…wouldn't it be, like, epically fucked up if the Avatar was, like, right here all along?"

"Or," Toph observes, expression thoughtful, "if one of us was the Avatar all along."

"Oh!" Sokka bolts up in his chair. "Can you imagine? What if _Zuko_ was the fucking Avatar! Wouldn't that be just _crazy?!_"

All I can do is laugh at that. Katara, though, seems intrigued by the notion, looking me up and down with a gaze that can only be described as _hungry_. "Well," she says, voice a little husky, "it _would_ be interesting…"

I shake off the heat that rises within me before it can make me lose any ability to think clearly and turn to the others. "Yeah, well, that's just stupid. The next Avatar would be of Water, and after that, Earth. It'd be pretty fucked up if the world had managed to go through three Avatars in less than seventy years."

"And the world's not fucked up?" Toph points out.

None of us have an answer for that, so we move on.

"So," Sokka says, leaning in while I light him a fresh cigarette, "what _is_ our course of action?"

"Simple," I say, "we have to go to the Inupiat tribe and hope we get lucky."

"The perfect time is coming up, too," Katara adds. And yes, we really do talk like we're both the same person sometimes. I know, it's kind of gross. _We're married, alright?_ "In two weeks, it'll be the New Year. Whenever a tribe celebrates the New Year, any member of any other tribe has to be welcomed, no matter what past quarrels there may be."

"That doesn't mean they have to talk to us," Toph points out.

I tilt my head. "True, but it's the best time to try. Plus, people who wouldn't normally be in the central village will be there, which will make it easier to look for information."

"And," Sokka adds, brightening a big, "it's a pretty kicking party."

Toph smiles. "No shit? Well, if their party's anything like our party last year, I'm _so_ fucking in."

Katara giggles. "The young maidens of the Inupiat tribe will never know what hit them."

Toph twists her face into what can only be described as a _leer_. "Oh, they'll know alright. Trust me: _They'll never forget._" Then she actually _licks her fucking lips_, and I about die in hysterics.

"Still," Sokka says, picking up the thread, rubbing his chin in thought, "I have to ask: What happens if we're _not_ lucky? I mean, where do we go from there?"

It's Katara who answers. She speaks to Sokka, but she keeps her eyes locked on me.

"Well, in that case, we tried. We'll have no choice but to start combing around the other tribes, hoping to find out something, if we want to continue. But maybe that'll mean that it's not our destiny to find the Avatar? Maybe we all already found our destiny?"

"So," Sokka says, looking a little muddled, "what're you saying?"

"She's saying," Toph drawls, voice thick with condescension, "that, if this doesn't go well, her and your brother-in-law are going to come back here and start popping out babies."

I grimace a little, giving an awkward shrug. "Well, I wouldn't exactly use the term _popping out babies._ I mean, how many do you expect us to have?"

"I've got names ready for at least a dozen," Katara replies, smiling.

At that, Sokka and Toph collapse into laughter, while I suddenly find myself thinking that maybe finding the Avatar wouldn't be such a burden after all.

* * *

So, sorry about that info dump, but it was necessary. _Trust me._ I needed to set the scene for the last act, which will, by the way, be the shortest act of the story, but no less important for that.

A brief note on how this story will work: They will find the Avatar, or, at least, _an _Avatar, but, to be honest, that feels like a whole other story to me, one which I have _no fucking clue_ how to write. I mean, I have it all outlined in a notebook, but I just have no idea how to make it _work_. Which is why, after this, I'm going to deal with my original shit, and, if all goes well, come back to that sometime late in the fall or early in the winter. _But more on that later._

Though, as I always say, if you guys wanna have a go at filling in those gaps, be my guests. Just show me what you did!

One other thing: If you've figured out the twist, please don't put it in the reviews. Let other people have fun! If you _do_ think you have it figured out, and just can't wait for the finale, shoot me a PM, and I'll give you an extremely aggravating vague answer of vagueness. _Bring it on._

In the next chapter, we arrive in the Inupiat tribe, where the Fearsome Foursome mingle, have some fun, and pretty much stumble upon someone who has the answers they need. Stay tuned!

Fun Fact: _Preggers_ was not considered a word by Spellcheck. I have fixed that issue.


	59. Chapter 59

59. WE ARRIVE IN THE INUPIAT TRIBE TWO WEEKS LATER, AND PRETTY MUCH THE FIRST THING I DO IS BURST INTO LAUGHTER.

It takes about a week to gather up everything we need, and then another week to actually get there. Even that would've taken longer if we hadn't been able to hitch a ride on a passing boat. Once we arrive, it takes a while to get everything gathered together and off the boat. After we ask around for a bit, we're directed to an open space on the edge of town, where people from outside the village who don't have family to stay with are throwing up a makeshift camp. An amusing scene follows, during which Sokka and I bitch and moan and grumble while Katara (_who, I feel like pointing out, is supposedly my endlessly supportive __**wife**_) and Toph take great delight in sitting on a random tree stump and shouting directions, catcalls, and criticisms at us while we get the tent up. Sokka and I do get a moment of triumph, though, when we take advantage of how engrossed they are in their little game to sneak attack them with snowballs. Sure, it doesn't end well for us boys, but the point is that we got the first shot.

After Sokka and I admit our inevitable defeat, we all brush ourselves off and finish sitting up our little campsite. Then, it's time to decide what to do next. We quickly decide to split into pairs, and go on wide arcs through the village. It's after that conclusion is reached, as I scan the thick crowds, listen to the music, take in the street vendors hawking their wares and the small children running through the streets and the monochromatic effect of the blues and whites that a thought occurs to me and I just about die from hysterical laughter.

The others stare at me, mouths agape, while I struggle to compose myself. It's hard, but I manage, finally pulling myself upright and wiping tears from my eye.

"So," Toph says, arms crossed, a bemused expression on her face, "you gonna share, or do we just have to start guessing?"

I shake my head, struggling for breath. "I'll share, I'll share, just give me a moment."

"I dunno," Sokka observes, just looking plain befuddled, "I'm not entirely sure I _wanna_ know. I mean, there's no way it's going to measure up to any of my own personal ideas."

"Fuck that," Toph snorts. "I've never yet denied my curiosity, and I'm not going to start now."

Katara just smiles and steps to my side, wrapping her arms around me waist. "Eh, speak for yourselves. I'm pretty sure I know _exactly_ what the deal is."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "You typically do."

"Well," Toph observes, "she _is_ fucking the dude."

Sokka groans and pinches his nose. "Must you _always_ point that out?"

"Until you stop turning green every time I do?" Toph replies, completely unapologetic. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

"Alright, alright already!" I gasp, holding a hand up to stop the exchange, which threatens to send me into fresh hysterics. "I'll spill, I promise, I'll spill." I take a deep breath, wipe my eye one more time, then wrap my arms around Katara and kiss her forehead. "The thing is…I was just thinking…maybe this time I'll stumble upon a crazed _deaf_ girl, complete the circle."

Katara giggles, while the others just kind of stare, not at all enlightened. "Ummm…care to elaborate?" Toph asks, making an _any moment now_ wave with her hand.

"Heh…" I have to take another deep breath, forcing my brain to stop trying to conjure up an image of what the deaf, waterbending version of Toph would be, since that's not helping matters in the least (_nor is my wife giggling uncontrollably into my chest, but it's not like I mind that_). "It's just…this is basically…like…I dunno how to put it…I can't help but feel like I'm living the day when my uncle and I arrived in Gaoling all over again." I wave a hand around, encompassing the proceedings. "It was a lot like this. We'd just kind of shown up here, because we were looking for Katara's dad, and we'd heard this was a good place to start, and the place was packed to the gills, and tons of shit was going down, and I went a-wandering, and found…well…" I gesture at Toph. "You."

Toph tilts her head, a sly grin on her face. "You totally just pointed at me, didn't you."

I shrug, while Katara says, "Eh, I'd say it was more of a _gesture._"

Toph scoffs. "Like I'd know the difference."

"It's easy," Sokka offers. "A point is this," he demonstrates, "and a gesture is this," followed by another demonstration.

Toph blinks a few times, then slugs Sokka hard in the arm. "No points for you. You intentionally set that up."

Sokka rubs his arm and huffs. "And I had a good comeback for once, too."

"No shit," Toph replies, "why do you think I didn't go for it? I've got a reputation to maintain."

Sokka rolls his eyes. "Eh, whatever." He turns back to Katara and I, still rubbing his arm (_Toph has a mean punch_). "So, flip a coin, or just wander off?"

Katara shrugs. "Eh, whatever." She shifts herself over to my right side, and threads her arm through mine, a hint which I take, pulling her close while she molds herself against me. "We're going this way. You guys go whichever way you want."

Sokka shrugs, shoves a cigarette in his mouth, and leans in for me to light it. "Sounds good to me." He turns to Toph, and offers his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"

Toph takes his arm, even as she says, "Not if you keep calling me _my lady_, asshole." Over her shoulder, she calls, "You two have fun, and try to keep the public indecency to a minimum."

"Don't give them any ideas," Sokka mutters as they set off.

"Too late!" Katara and I call out together, then we turn and stroll off in the direction Katara had picked for us.

Even though no two tribes do things exactly the same, the basics of such a major event as the end of one year and the start of another remain constant across all of the Southern Water Tribes. In a lot of ways, in fact, it's eerily reminiscent of the Fire Nation's own New Year celebrations, an observation I make to Katara as pass by a trio of performers showing off all manner of waterbending tricks.

"How do you mean?" she asks, laying her head on my shoulder.

I allow myself a happy sigh, pressing a soft kiss into the top of her head. "Well, it's just that a lot of the basics are the same. The details change, sure, and my people like to throw in a lot more ceremony and what-not, but at the end of the day, the core components never change. You have the carnival-like atmosphere, the laughter, the dancing, the stalls, the religious processions, the bending demonstrations, the singing, the-"

_"The dancing!"_

I blink. "The what now?"

Katara didn't bother to answer, just pulling away and dragging me by the hand over into a swirling riot of people, most of them fairly young, dancing wildly to the tune of a ragged little band whose singer looked to already be half in the bag, with his musicians not far behind. After over a year of marriage, I knew better than to argue, and what was more, I didn't want to. Instead, for I honestly don't know how long, I allowed myself to fly away with the music. I laughed and spun and swirled and jumped and sang and kissed my wife and danced some more. The band wasn't very good, and got progressively worse as the night wore on and the booze continued to flow. They were always out of tune and never quite on the beat, and the singer's voice had this hoarse, crushed rock quality that turned even the most romantic ballad into something sounding not unlike a death threat.

And yet, the dancers didn't care, and I certainly didn't. All I cared about was the beautiful woman in my arms, holding my hand, spinning around with me as if we hadn't a care in the world, as if all of this was all for us, and in a way, it was. It certainly felt like it. I was in love and I was happy and she was in love and she was happy and that was all that mattered.

After that, we spent a lot of time enjoying ourselves and very little time actually carrying out the mission we had supposedly come to pursue. It was if the atmosphere had seeped into our very bones and carried away any sense of duty or responsibility or destiny.

_Or maybe, just maybe, we had all of us, without saying a word, decided that this was our destiny, right here, to be happy and make the best of it…_

Katara and I were finally staggering away from the third round of dancing she had dragged me into when I told her this. She stopped, her face blank, as she stared up at me. The late afternoon sun of our arrival had vanished behind the horizon, and the sky above us was an inky blank ocean pocked with diamonds sparkling in the darkness. Torches had been lit, and the world was bathed in a bright orange glow that twisted and danced with the wind. It was very cold, but no one seemed to feel it. The air was filled with laughter and happy voices and screaming children and one could see every breath hanging in the air and swirling away with the breeze.

And Katara? Katara just simply took my breath away at that moment. Her eyes were wide, the light of the torches making those deep blue irises shimmer in the twirling light. Every bend and curve of her face was visible. I reached up, laid a gloved hand against her cheek. She nuzzled into it, laid her own hand atop mine. Her hair was slightly askew, shaken loose by our dancing. Her chest rose and fell, and she was breathing very hard and very fast, and so was I.

She stepped towards me. I cupped her other cheek in my other hand, and her arms slid around my waist and her hands linked behind my back. She was very close. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face.

_"You really mean that?" _she whispered.

I smiled, and kissed her softly on her forehead. _"I do,"_ I whispered back.

She smiled, and tears glimmered in the corner of her eyes. She kissed me softly, and I kissed her back.

_"I want to start a family."_

_ "Me, too."_

It doesn't matter who said what, or in what order. What matters is that it was said, that it was put out there, that the words were hurled out into the world for all to hear. We kissed again, and then we were laughing and we were dancing through the streets, ducking and weaving through the crowds, and we couldn't stop laughing and smiling and kissing. I'm sure we were the grossest couple that ever existed, but it didn't matter.

_Not much did, just then…_

More time passes, and the darkness deepens as thick clouds roll in and cover up the stars. Snow begins to fall, very light, a lot like our wedding night. Neither of us misses the parallel, and we can't help but feel that, somehow, tonight is our night. Tonight is going to be good. _Tonight is going to be ours._

Everyone else seems to feel it, too. The festive mood grows and blooms, a collective warm and happiness spreading out through the crowds. The drinking begins in earnest, and soon it seems that everyone is a bit red in the face, and no one seems to mind all that much. We run into Sokka once, quite literally, his arm draped over a very pretty girl's shoulders, and spend about one minute talking about how little we've accomplished and about thirty minutes babbling about how much fun we're having. Our only sighting of Toph is when we catch a glimpse of her going fishing for a girl's tonsils in a dark alleyway, a task we easily decide to leave her to pursue in privacy.

Time loses all meaning. All there is, is us, a world entire, complete and whole, but wanting more, not because we need it, but because we want it. Somewhere, at the edge of reality, I swear I can hear my uncle laughing. Katara hears him, too, and we respond by laughing with him and holding each other even closer.

At some point, we're walking down a street we don't fully recognize. It seems that we're approaching the edge of the village. It's very calm and very quiet, the only illumination being a few scattered torches and a row of hastily put-together lanterns, shifting softly in the breeze, their light turning the snowflakes into tiny suns as they drift down from the sky in lazy circles sketched against the night. Katara's wrapped around one of my arms, or maybe it's my arm that's wrapped up in her, I'm not entirely sure, it's so hard to tell where one of us begins and the other ends anymore. A sudden impulse strikes me, and, without thinking, I pull my left glove off with my teeth and stuff the glove in my pocket. I hold up my hand, extending two fingers into the air, and from those fingers I bend a small, soft flame, a flame that I make dance upon my fingertips.

Katara gasps in delight, as we stand in the snow and I make my little flame do little tricks. It forms shapes, dances, and when I make it turn into her, she almost squeals and plants a big wet kiss on my cheek. I look in her eyes, and I see the mischief there, and then she's leaning towards the flame and taking a deep breath and next thing I know she's bending tiny crystals of ice into the air. The fingers on her right hand make a slow, twirling motion, and the crystals begin to swirl around my flame. It's beautiful, perfect harmony, like the stars dancing around the sun, and we're so mesmerized that we don't even notice the old woman until she's stepped right into our view, clapping her hands and giggling like a little girl.

We are taken aback in surprise, but not enough to stop our show. The woman watches, enraptured, while I split my fingers, holding them far apart, and Katara begins to bend even more little crystals of ice into existence, sending them on a delicate dance around and between and back around the flames. The woman makes no attempt to conceal her glee, and eagerly demands more, begging with her eyes, and we rise to the occasion. I extend my other fingers, one by one, and soon four flames are burning bright, while a sparkling stream of ice swims and twists around and between them.

If we were stronger souls, we could've gone on forever, but in the end, neither of us could resist the pull of gravity, and eventually, we succumbed to the inevitable, dropping our hands and pulling each other in for a kiss that left us gasping for air and wishing we didn't have an audience. The woman, though, was unperturbed, and if anything, she just applauded louder, cheering us on and laughing like someone a third her age.

Finally, we pulled apart, feeling flushed and a little awkward, silly grins on our faces as I slipped the glove back on my hand and Katara laid her head back on my shoulder. The woman, meanwhile, wiped tears from her eyes, and I honestly don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy, or so impressed.

"Oh, my dear, sweet darlings, that was…_that was marvelous_." She wiped a few more tears away, and her smile grew until I was afraid it would crack her jaw. "I have never, in all my life, seen something quite like that."

"Well," Katara replied, her voice a little sheepish, "I doubt you've ever seen anything quite like us."

The woman nodded, shaking her head, as if unable to believe what she'd just seen. "That, my dear, is very true. You two are together, I take it?"

Katara nods, beaming up at me. "We are." She turns back to the woman, and bows her head. "I'm Katara, and this," she continues, laying her head back on my shoulder, "is my husband, Zuko."

I bow my head. "A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The woman puts a hand to her chest, and heaves a happy little sigh. "The pleasure is all mine. And might I say, my dear, that is a _lovely _betrothal necklace."

Katara blushes and reaches up to brush her fingers across the stone. "Thank you." She squeezes my arm, and gives me a peck on the cheek. "My husband made it himself."

The woman's eyes go wide. "Oh? Is that so?"

I give a humble shrug. "It's true, I have to admit. Only took seven tries to get it right!" I tilt my head, and press a kiss into Katara's snow speckled hair. "I figure it was the gods making me pay for getting my soul-mate on my first try."

Katara blushed, and I swear, the woman looked like she was going to swoon. "Oh, a looker _and_ a sweet talker!" She stepped forward and playfully batted at Katara's arm. "You are quite the lucky one, my dear."

Katara blushed some more and giggled. "You have no idea how true that is."

The woman turned back to me, tilting her head, a curious expression on her face. "Young man, if you don't mind my asking…you wouldn't happen to be _the_ Zuko, would you? The exiled prince?"

I bow my head, struggling to contain my embarrassment. "I…I'm afraid so…" I look back up, swallow my shyness, and try to put on a sly grin, desperately conjuring up an image of Sokka to copy. "My reputation has preceded me, I take it?"

The woman just laughs. I have to admit, I like her laugh. It's light and warm, the laugh of a young girl, freshly unleashed upon the world. Her entire being is like that. She's obviously old, at least in her seventies, but one wouldn't know it, if one just went by her voice or her laugh or the way she moved and seemed to shine with an inner light.

"Oh, I would say so! You're a hero, young man, and don't try to be coy about it." She turned back to Katara, and clucked her tongue. "Though, to be honest, I should've figured it out sooner. Everyone knows about the young firebending prince who stole the heart and the hand of the most beautiful woman in all the Southern Water Tribes."

Now it was Katara's turn to blush and feel a little embarrassed. "Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far. There's bound to be a girl more beautiful than me."

I can't help but laugh at that. "Maybe," I observe, "but goddesses don't count."

At that, my wife rolls her eyes and the woman bursts into happy laughter. Still chuckling, she sighs and says, "Well, after a line like that, I just _have_ to invite you in for some tea. Unless you two have something better you'd like to do…?"

Katara and I ignore the knowing wink that the woman throws our way, filing away the suggestion for later. "Oh, we have the rest of our lives for _other things_," Katara replies, winking back. "For tonight, we'd _love_ to have a cup of tea. Or maybe…something a little stronger?"

The woman taps a finger to her nose and winks once more. "Oh, I think I have just the thing for a night like this. Come, my home is just over here." She leads the way, and we follow, until, suddenly, she stops dead, turning around and laughing at herself. "Oh, silly me, I completely forgot. You two are bad influence, taking me back to my younger days!" She extends a hand, which Katara and I take turns shaking. "I'm Nerrivik, by the way, and I'm so happy I decided to go home early tonight."

Katara gasps, and I say, "Oh! We're not keeping you up, are we?"

The woman named Nerrivik waves the idea way. "Perish the thought. I just decided to leave the young ones to their fun; there's only so much dancing these old bones can do these days." She begins to walk again, Katara and I trailing a little behind. "Oh, I used to _love_ dancing. I'd dance all night, and into the morning, and then I'd get some sleep, and when I woke up, I'd dance some more." She looks back over her shoulder, that same big, warming smile on her face. "Now I mostly just watch the young ones dance, and feel young while I watch them." She turns back, and sighs. "Don't ever forget to dance. Even if you can't dance anymore, never stop watching others enjoy it for you."

A chuckle escapes my lips. "Heh…that's very Zen of you."

"It's something your uncle would say," Katara observes.

"Heh…he probably did, at some point…"

Nerrivik's ears perk up at that. "Was your uncle a monk?"

Katara and I both laugh at that. "Oh, he should've been, that's for sure, but no, life got in the way of that." I tilt my head, lips pursed in thought. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that…well…" She steps onto a porch, her hand on the knob of the door before her, chewing softly on her lip, deep in thought.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" Katara asks.

Nerrivik nods, still smiling. "Oh, it's quite alright. It's just…well…" She looks up at me. "You sure your uncle wasn't a monk?"

I shake my head. Deep in my mind, bells are ringing, bells I can't describe. They're not alarm bells; I sense no danger, see nothing to worry about. It's just…

_It feels like a moment has arrived…_

I don't have to look at Katara to know she's feeling exactly the same.

"No, ma'am, I'm quite sure." I tilt my head, brows furrowed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nods, still thinking. "Oh, of course. It's just…it was when you said _Zen, _that made me think of monks." She laughs, shaking her head. "You know, my mother actually knew a monk. They were very close." She sighs, her face falling a little. "But he died, a long time ago, before I was even born. I don't think my mother ever got over it." Her smile returns, slow this time, and very slight. "He taught her a lot of that _Zen_ stuff, and she passed a lot of it on to me."

I'm pretty sure neither of us were breathing at that point. We looked at each other, eyes wild, unable to fully comprehend what we were hearing. Slowly, like actors in a Noh play, we turned our gazes back to Nerrivik, and held each other even close.

Katara found her voice first. Speaking almost in a whisper, she asked, "Ma'am…can I ask what his name was?"

Nerrivik sighed, shrugging her soldiers. "We're not supposed to talk about it, to be honest, but…" She takes one more look at us, and smiles. "But I'm too old to care about frightened old men who are long dead, and besides, I doubt I'd be able to deny a couple as sweet and beautiful as you two, anyways." She takes another breath, lets it out, then says the words we had started to dread hearing.

"His name was Aang, and I have to admit, he was a long way from home."

If Katara and I had not been holding on to each other so tight, I'm pretty sure one could've knocked us over with a feather. Fortunately, then, as always, as forever, we held on to each other, and supported each other, and kept each other safe, and prevented either one of us from falling off the earth. Apart, neither of us would have had the courage to follow Nerrivik into that house and hear her story.

Together, we barely hesitated as we stepped over the threshold and into the quiet darkness.

* * *

So, that was cute. Wasn't it cute? I thought so. It was so cute, in fact, that even I was surprised when the plot snuck up on me towards the end. Then, I went back and re-read it, and while I was catching some errors, I realized that I started the plot much earlier than that.

Heh…man, I love it when I outsmart myself…

_Anyhoo_, I know many of you are speculating on the plot twist. For the record, the fact that Aang _might_ be dead is _not_ the twist. Oh no. It's much more devious than that.

_Trust me._

In the next chapter, Nerrivik tells her story, and our favorite couple find the answer they expected, if not the answer they wanted. Stay tuned!


	60. Chapter 60

60. IT TOOK SOME TIME FOR NERRIVIK TO BEGIN HER STORY. She skipped right by the tea, going straight for a bottle of ice wine that she kept around _for special occasions_, as she put it. She was a perfect host, even digging out an ashtray so Katara and I could smoke, and offered repeatedly to cook us something. We would've happily allowed her to, we would've gladly allowed her to do anything, since we had both instantly fallen in love with her, but we had inhaled between us three of the most delicious meat skewers we'd ever had not an hour before, and we were anything but hungry.

After the wine had been poured, I lit the old woman's fire for her, while she clapped with delight and my wife took the chance to do a little bragging about me. This turned into another of our regular rounds of competitive bragging, the goal to make the other one blush into incoherence. As usual, Katara won, while I flustered and Nerrivik applauded and poured more wine.

We didn't talk about the boy named Aang at first. Nerrivik was obviously reluctant to share, and besides, we weren't all that eager to hear. Instead, we talked about ourselves, delighting her with the stories of our lives, how we met, and grew mutually flustered when Nerrivik burst into joyful tears as we described our wedding. Then, we started talking about Nerrivik, about her husband, passed away for some time now, about her life, about her children and grandchildren and, now, _great-grandchildren._ Contrary to appearances, she did not live alone; her granddaughter, who was about Toph's age, lived with her, but was currently out, dancing the night away, an activity that Nerrivik had forbidden the girl from ending until at least sunrise.

And then, the subject of Nerrivik's mother came up, and there we were all out of excuses to delay.

As Nerrivik began to tell her story, the smile faded slowly from her face. The further into the past she moved, the more downcast she became. Her voice lost its strength, its vibrancy, her eyes fell, and somehow, before our very eyes, she finally, for the first time since we'd met her, became _old._ Katara and I didn't say a word, merely sipped our wine and listened and watched, our own hearts following hers into the ice cold depths beneath our feet. Katara pressed herself deeper and deeper into me, her head sinking from my shoulder into my chest, and I held her close, held her tight, our fingers tightly entwined, my lips pressed into her hair.

It was the story we had expected to hear, but not the one we had wanted to learn.

"Mother," Nerrivik began, "was only a little girl when the war started, barely fourteen-years-old. From what I heard, from family friends years later, she was a bright child, _vivacious_, if you will. My father always used to say that I reminded him a lot of her, when she was little, before the war came, and everything happened. She loved to dance and sing and do all sorts of crazy, silly things. Maybe that's why the monk liked her."

There was a deep, shaky breath here, let out in a fog of despair that was all but visible.

"He started visiting our village two years before, and he was always a source of wonder and curiosity. Air Nomads didn't come to the South very often; if they visited any Water Tribe, they visited the one in the North. But he seemed to like it here, to like how much simpler things were, how it was less _stuffy_, less _formal_, less _rigid._ My mother always used to say that he had a _free spirit_, and one had only to look at him to see that he would always rebel against being tied down."

_In short, the absolute worst person to be the Avatar_, I thought, but didn't say. Katara's grip on my hands squeezed, a burst of anger flashing through her, and I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. _What kind of cruel joke did the gods think they were playing?_

The story wasn't anywhere _near_ over.

"Everyone could tell that he was sweet on my mother, and, to be honest, my mother was sweet on him. It was, apparently, a constant source of amusement in the village. He would always bring her something, a present from whatever exotic place he had been to last, and she made him promise that, for her eighteenth birthday, he would take her on one his trips, and show her at least some of the world. They had a lot of plans, a lot of hopes, a lot of dreams. Everyone did, back then. Peace had reigned for a long time; even the Earth Kingdom was quiet, in those days."

She laughs, a mirthless sound, drained of joy.

"It's funny, when you think of it. Back then, everyone expected that it would be the Earth Kingdom that would do something to break the peace. It had been them the last time, during the days of Chin the Conqueror. No one really thought that the Fire Nation would be able to stop fighting itself long enough to fight anyone else."

Another breath, damp and cold.

"But, in the end, we were wrong. Sozin launched his campaign against the Air Nomads, and then he started to attack everyone else, and then the whole planet, it seemed, was on fire. But here in the Inupiat tribe, we did our best to stay out of it. We had a secret, and we didn't know what to do about it."

She wiped tears from her eyes, and took a long drink of wine before pressing on.

"The boy washed up on our shores, not long before we found out what had happened, that war had come. He had been caught in a storm, running away from his temple. We didn't know that at the time, just did our best to help him. He was a good boy, and a friend, and as far as we knew, there was no reason not to help him. He was unconscious for a long time, talking nonsense in his sleep. My mother stayed with him until he woke up, almost a month later, and when he did, he was very distraught. He regretted having run away, and kept going on about how he had to get back. But his air bison had been lost in the storm, and he was still very weak, so my mother prevailed on him to stay, to recover."

She looks down.

"We didn't know about what had happened to the Air Nomads yet…"

We all close our eyes for a moment. More wine is drunk, and more wine is poured. Silence reigns supreme, even as Nerrivik continues to talk.

"We found out about three months after he woke up. The boy had finally recovered his strength, and was itching to get back, but confused. He couldn't understand why no one had come to get him; he got more and more nervous with each passing day. Finally, we found out, and…_it broke him._"

She's crying openly now, long tears slicing down her cheeks. In my arms, Katara sniffles, and even my own eye burns in the night.

"My mother did her best to console him, to tell him that there was nothing he could have done, that if he had been at the temple, he would be dead, too. But he didn't see it that way. He felt that he had failed his friends, his people, the entire world. We didn't understand, not for a long time. We just thought it was survivor's guilt, pure and simple. Given time, he would heal, and my mother was determined to be with him, every step of the way. She was in love with him by then, in love with his gentle spirit, his good nature, his warm heart. That's how she described him to me, with those words, here, in this house, not long before the spirits took her home."

Silence falls once more, until Katara speaks, her voice barely a whisper. I'm glad she speaks; I'm not sure if I have the strength to even _think_ at that moment.

_"So…what happened to him?"_

Nerrivik shakes her head, sips her wine, wipes more tears from her face.

"Several years passed. He stayed here, but he wasn't really _here_, if that makes any sense. He cried nearly every night, and he hardly ever slept. There was a coldness within him, my mother said, an emptiness. His eyes were vacant, and there would be long moments, completely at random, when he would just…_drift away_, gazing off to the north. The tribe, for its part, simply didn't know what to do. By then, he had admitted that he was the Avatar, or at least, was _supposed_ to be, but what could we do? We're a simple people; we had no idea how to handle this. Who should we send him to? Who should we contact? Who could we trust? And besides, one had only to take one look at him to know that he was in no state to save the world."

She sighs. "Not that it could be saved, at that point."

Another breath, one that catches in her throat. On instinct, I free a hand from Katara, reach across, and lay it on her knee. She looks up at me, and smiles, and I do my best to smile back. I think of all those long nights, after the battle, when Katara held my head in her hands and beamed strength and life back into my soul, and I find myself praying, for the first time in a long time, for the courage to do the same for someone else.

Nerrivik nods, and pats my hand. I don't know if it works, but the look on her face tells me she appreciates the effort.

"He hung himself when he was nineteen-years-old. My mother found him, in the house that they had started to share. We buried him out beyond the village, in a quiet place, on a tall hill, where he would always be able to see the sky." She stands, goes into what is probably her bedroom. We hear the sounds of a drawer being opened, and the noise of things being rustled and rummaged about. Finally, the drawer slides closed, and she returns, a necklace dangling from her hand. She hands it to Katara, and sips her wine while we look at it in the light of the fire.

"He gave that to her, not all that long before. She kept it with her until the day she died, and when she did, it passed to my sister, but my sister didn't want it, so it came to me, instead."

It's a simple necklace, well-maintained, but worn from age. The band is frayed, and the stone is smooth and dull. Carved into the face is the symbol of the Air Nomads, surrounded by swirling lines to symbolize water. Katara looks up at me, a hand on her own necklace, and she kisses me softly before handing the necklace back.

Nerrivik holds it gently in her hands, tracing the patterns delicately with her fingertips.

"My sister was born a few weeks later, and from the beginning, everyone knew something was different about her, beyond who her father was. She mastered waterbending by the time she was eleven, and was already the best healer in the South by the time I was born."

I clear my throat, unsure what to say, but desperate to say something anyways. "Are you a waterbender?" I don't know why I ask, or what the words even mean. It barely even feels like I'm the one saying them. It's like I'm drifting through a cloud, watching myself from on high. The only thing that feels real is my wife burrowed into my arms, and the desire to burrow down into hers. A grip as hard and cold and strong as steel sinks its claws into my heart. I know what it is; I've met it before.

_Destiny…_

Nerrivik shakes her head. "Oh, no, my mother wasn't a waterbender, and neither was my father, and there weren't many in either of their families. Wherever my sister got the ability, it was from her father."

_"The Avatar," _Katara whispers.

Nerrivik nods. "Yes, the Avatar, the boy named Aang, who, if the gods and the spirits actually cared about us, should never have been given that responsibility." She wipes away some final tears, and looks up at us, smiling proudly. "My sister would've done much better. Sometimes I can't help but feel that that's why she was chosen, to give her father a second chance."

"So," I ask, "just to be clear…you and your sister had different fathers?"

Nerrivik nods once more. "We did, indeed. My mother never got over losing her monk, but in time, she did get married, and start another family. That's where I came along." She bows her head, a sad smile on her face. "And yes, before you ask, my sister was the next Avatar."

She lets that sink in for a moment, before pressing on.

"Again, though, I can't help but feel that the gods chose poorly once again. They picked the right person, but the wrong place. We had stayed out of the war, because of our friend, and by the time we all knew the truth about my sister, the world had passed us by. Even the other tribes wouldn't really talk to us; and again, our ignorance defeated us. If the world has been working as it should, there would've been…I don't know…_traders_ or something, to ask questions of, and we wouldn't have needed to be afraid. But in the end, we took an oath of secrecy, as a tribe, and prayed that the answer would be revealed to us, before it was too late."

"And was the answer revealed to you?" Katara asks.

Nerrivik smiles, and for the first time since her story began, I feel like she means it. "I think, my dear, that the answer is being revealed to us right now."

I frown. "What do you mean? Is your sister still alive?"

Nerrivik shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. She passed away, nineteen years ago this past fall."

"That means…" Katara begins.

Nerrivik finishes. "That the Avatar cycle continues, which means that the next Avatar is one of Earth." She sighs, and shrugs. "Though I can't help you any more than that. I'm afraid I don't know much about how all of that works."

I blink.

_But we do…_

Katara and I bolt upright in the same instant, so heedless that her head actually smacks into my chin. My teeth clamp down on my tongue, and we both yelp in pain, while Nerrivik, despite how she must be feeling, bursts into soft laughter. I have to admit, it's probably a funny image, to young adults cursing and rubbing injured spots while clucking over each other like an old married couple. We're so distracted, that for a moment, we forget what we had just realized, right up until our eyes make contact and it all comes crashing down on us.

_The next Avatar…_

_ Born of Earth…_

_ Nineteen years ago this past fall…_

"But…" Katara begins.

"That can't be…" I continue.

"Shouldn't we have known?" she asks.

"We never thought to look into it," I reply.

And then we're up and running out the door, babbling thanks and apologies while Nerrivik sighs and waves us on our way. My last sight of her is just before the door slams shut behind us, her mother's necklace in her hands, her fingers once more tracing the design, a look on her face that's somehow sad and hopeful, all at once.

After that, it's a mad dash through the village, hand-in-hand, only two words echoing over and over in the mind that we've come to share.

_Holy shit…_

_ Holy shit…_

_**Holy shit…**_

_** HOLY SHIT!**_

And somewhere, I can't help but feel that the gods are laughing at us. I don't begrudge them their joy, though. After all, if I was in their place?

_I'd be laughing my ass off, too…_

* * *

Again, if you've figured it out, don't spoil it! Don't!

A note about this chapter: For those who don't know, _Ron the Death Eater_ is a FanFiction trope that occurs when a writer goes out of their way to make a character they don't like look bad. For example, if you hate that Ron and Hermione hooked up in Canon, you turn Ron into a shithead in your story so that you can justify hooking Hermione up with whoever your preferred ship is. I've never really liked this trope, not least because it seems so unnecessary. I mean, you're already writing FanFiction, right? If there's something about the Canon situation that feels wrong to you, and you're feeling inspired, why not tell Canon to go fuck itself and write the story that feels right to you? No need to demonize anybody.

I say all that to say this: I'm really not a fan of Kataang, but I still try hard not to do what I just talked about to Aang. If anything, in _A Different Path_, I like to think that I went out of my way to turn Aang into someone I can actually stand (_he got on my nerves a lot in the show_). That said, why did I just have him kill himself? Well, for one, because _suicide_ does not equal _weakness_. Anyone can fall victim to their internal demons. Zuko almost did, even with everything he had going for him in this story. Aang just had that little extra nudge on the branch that finally made it snap. To be honest, I feel sorry for him.

Especially considering that, originally, this story ended with Zuko and Katara finding Aang in the ice. I was still intent on that being the ending up until I started writing, when my now-fiancée pointed out to me that Aang simply wouldn't fit into the group of four I had devised. They were simply too complete, too strong, too whole; shoving Aang in there would end up hurting everything I'd worked so hard to build, and through no fault of Aang's own. And thus…well…we get this.

In the next chapter, everything is finally revealed, and our heroes feel like idiots. Stay tuned!

PS – I mean it: _Don't spoil it for anyone who hasn't guessed yet!_


	61. Chapter 61

61. WE FIND TOPH IN THE FOURTH DANCE PARTY WE LOOK IN, FLIRTING WITH THE GIRL WE SAW HER MAKING OUT WITH IN AN ALLEY NOT LONG BEFORE. Throwing caution and our very lives to the wind, Katara and I don't even hesitate. We each grab one of her arms and drag her away from the fire, while she screams every obscenity she knows and some that she makes up on the spot. We ignore her, pulling her off to the side and turning her around to face us, our expressions as serious as the end of the world.

_Or maybe, just maybe, the beginning…_

"Toph, when were you born?" That's me.

Toph blinks. She's read in the face and a little wobbly on her feet, and the state of her hair and her clothes tells everything we need to know about what's she's been up to since last we saw her.

"Umm…in the fall, but you guys fucking know that already." She hiccups, and runs her hands through her hair. She looks like she wants to fight, but something, probably in our voices or hidden in any of the other thousand things she can sense that we can't, holds her back. Her expression, previously twisted into a towering rage, slackens, and is soon replaced by a deep confusion. "Why?"

Katara ignores the question, and asks one of her own. "How did you learn earthbending?"

Toph laughs nervously, the drunkenness visibly draining from her face. "From the badger-moles when I was, like, six or seven, like I've told you guys _a dozen fucking times._"

"You mean," I ask, reaching down and meeting the hand Katara is reaching out for mine, our fingers twisting around each other and squeezing so hard I've no doubt that our knuckles are turning white, "you just…wandered into some caves, and a bunch of badger-moles taught you everything you know."

She shrugs. "I guess? I dunno. I mean, it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that…" She gives herself a shake, plants her fists into her hips, the fight returning. "Seriously, the fuck is the point of all of this? I'm starting to get pretty pissed off…"

Katara and I steal a look at each other, and then she's wrapped around my arm, trembling with excitement. "So, you just…it came naturally to you?"

"Umm…yeah, I guess? I mean, it's all pretty fucking simple when you get right down to it. I don't know why people struggle with it so much." She laughs, relaxing as she reaches up to rub the back of her neck. "I mean, gods, you know that most people don't even _start_ earthbending until they're, like, six or seven? Ridiculous, really."

I take a deep breath that doesn't nothing to calm me. My heart is hammering away so fast, I'm pretty sure it's going to burst from my chest at any moment, _and I don't give a flying fuck._ "In other words, you were born in the fall, nineteen years ago, and earthbending came naturally to you, and you mastered it far earlier than anyone's supposed to."

Toph shrugs once more. She really doesn't seem to know what else to do. "Again…umm…_I guess?_ Seriously, guys, you're starting to freak me out. The fuck is going on?"

Katara's hand releases its death grip on my arm and shoots out for Toph's wrist. She lifts it up into my view, and there, wrapped around the girl's wrist, is a very nice bracelet of what looks like iron that I'm pretty sure I've never seen before. "Toph," Katara says, sounding like she's out of breath, "where did you get this?"

Toph pulls her wrist away and holds it up, running the fingers of her other hand over the surface. "Oh, this? I made it."

I almost faint right then and there. "Wait…_you figured out metalbending?!_"

She laughs. "I know, right? Shocked the shit out of me. But I was just sitting at one of the fires, fiddling with a piece of iron, when suddenly…I dunno…it _clicked_, you know? It was actually pretty easy. I don't know why no one's figured it out before…umm…guys?"

We don't hear her, because both Katara and I are squealing like little girls, embracing each other and kissing each other like we're going to start that family we want so badly right then and there. Then we're apart, hands together, leaping up and down and babbling incoherently, and I'm pretty sure we are just making the most disgusting display of two supposedly married so-called adults that's ever been seen in the entirety of human history.

_But we don't. Fucking. __**Care.**_

Without another word, I grab Toph's arm and pull her off towards the edge of the village, while Katara runs off to find Sokka. Toph bitches and moans and complains the whole time, even trying to dig her feet in, until I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder and keep running, ignoring the curses she hurls at me and the force with which she pounds on my back and kicks my chest. Honestly, I'm lucky she doesn't kill me right then and there, and I'm pretty sure only her confusion and curiosity holds her back.

After an amount of time I won't even bother to define, I finally escape the village. I keep going until I feel like no one can see us, then toss her to the ground. She swears some more, until I silence her with a fire whip cracking right by her head.

She blinks. "Well, fuck, Sparky, no need to get prissy."

"Whatever. You can see how people are standing, right? You may not be able to get details of the person, but you can see, for example, if I'm waving my hand through the air."

She nods. "Yeah, pretty much. It's hard to explain, but yeah. Why?"

I take up a basic firebending form, body turned sideways, one foot in front of the other, one hand out, a balled fist at my waist. "Can you see how I'm standing now?"

She tilts her head, processing the information she's receiving. "Isn't that a firebending form? I've seen…_heh, too much time with Sokka…_anyways, yeah, I've sensed you do that before. Now, mind telling me _why_, before I knock your fucking head off?"

"In time. Now, copy my stance."

She huffs, but she does it, obviously more intent on finding out what the hell's going on than she cares about punishing me. She pulls herself to her feet, closes her eyes, sees whatever it is that she sees, and then copies my stance. She's close, but it's a bit sloppy. I take a few moment to do some adjustments, and when I'm happy, I take up my stance once more.

"Alright, I want you to listen carefully and not argue or ask questions. Got it?"

She groans and grits her teeth. "_Fine_," she snarls, "but just know that, if this doesn't start to make sense _pretty gods-damn quick_, you and Sugar Queen are _never_ going to experience another orgasm for the rest of your _miserable fucking lives._"

I laugh. "Fair enough. Now, ready?"

"Sure? Whatever, let's get this over with so I can beat you to a pulp."

"Fuck, Toph, I'll beat myself up if this doesn't work. Now, like I said, listen carefully. I want you to take a deep breath, in and out, in and out. I'll tell you when to stop."

She does. It's on the fourth round that I see it, and she senses it. Her eyes fly wide, and she starts to tremble. _"What the ever-loving __**FUCK?!**_"

I smile. I feel so giddy, I could almost drop dead right there, and do so with glee. "Feel that? That heat?"

She nods, eyes wide with terror. "Umm…_yeah_. What…_what the fuck was that?!_"

"I'll explain in a minute. Now, close your eyes again, that's good, just keep following my directions, sense my movements, listen to my voice, and you're going to be just fine, okay?"

She nods, looking something I've never seen her be before: _Sheepish_. "Alright…"

"Right. So, start breathing again…okay, good…now, feel that heat? That weird heat, like it's in your very blood? Don't speak, just nod…okay, good…now, what I want you do to is focus on that heat, pull it through your body, move it into the fist at your waist…can you feel it moving? Don't worry if you're losing energy or it's taking a while, we'll work on that…how's your fist feel?"

Her answer, when it comes, escapes through gritted teeth and comes from a body trembling like a leaf. _"It's very hot…"_

I try not to laugh, to jump around and run back into the village and kiss every man and woman I meet. "That's good. Now, I'm going to complete my form. I want you pay very close attention to how I do it." At that, I move my back foot forward, stomping it into the ground at the same time as I thrust my fist forward. When I make the stomp, I release the built-up energy, and a small fireball hurls itself into the ground. I resume the initial form, then say, "Alright, I'm going to do it again. Keep that energy in your fist, then-"

_"Zuko…?"_

I blink. Her voice is that of a little girl. "Yes?"

_"What…why are we doing this? What…what do you think I am…?"_

I smile, reach out, put a hand on her shoulder. I almost rear back, so surprised am I to actually feel the heat, but I press down, and lean in.

"Toph, do you trust me?"

She smiles. "I trust you more than I trust anyone, Zuko."

I pat her shoulder. "Good, so trust me now, trust me now more than you've ever trusted me before. Can you do that?"

She scoffs. "I can do anything."

"Heh…that's my girl. Now, pay close attention, take in every bit of information you can." I run through the form a few more times, then stop, turn to her, and say, "Now, your turn."

There's a long pause, and for a moment, I'm not sure she's going to do it, or even if she can. What if I'm wrong? What if this is all just some crazy idea? _What the fuck were Katara and I even thinking?!_

And then I shake my head and sigh. _Then Toph will kill us both, and that'll be the end of our worries._

And right as I think that, the little blind nineteen-year-old, petite, thin as a rail, scrawny as fuck, with an attitude as big as the world and a love of her friends to match, completes the form, and hurls a fireball into the ground.

I haven't a single fucking thing to say, so it's a good thing that at that moment, just in time, Sokka and Katara burst onto the scene, and Sokka says something for us all.

_"Well, fuck me sideways…"_

Katara bursts into a happy cheer, and runs up to me as I run to her and leaps into my arms as I swing her around and we cover each other in kisses. Sokka just continues to stare, mouth open, his head tilted in confusion and his eyes tilted in wonder. I finally set Katara down, and we turn to face our little friend, who has turned around to face us, face blank, flexing the hand with which she just wielded fire, mouth hanging so open that I'm pretty sure that her jaw will make contact with the ground at any second.

"So," Katara says, a cautious tone in her voice, "how do you feel?"

That's when Toph breaks into a grin. Her head snaps up at us, and she throws her arms into the air, hands balled into fists, and we all breathe a sigh of relief, because it looks like we're not going to lose our Toph after all.

_"Oh, I am gonna get __**so**__ much pussy! Big tits, __**here I come!**__"_

It's a long time before we stop laughing.

* * *

_HOLY SHIT GUYS A TWIST!_

Though I'm pretty sure you guys saw that coming from a mile away…or, at least, a few chapters ago. Also, fun fact: Why can Toph see in the snow? Because, oddly enough, as far as I can see, that's a FanFiction thing. I see no reason why her senses wouldn't work when there's snow, especially when the snow isn't all too thick. But, whatever, who cares? _Toph is the fucking Avatar!_ How cool is that?

In the next chapter, we wrap everything up (_heh_), and we reach the end of this story! Stay tuned!


	62. Chapter 62

62. NOT FAR BEYOND THE WESTERN EDGE OF OUR VILLAGE, THERE'S A CLIFF LOOKING OUT OVER THE OCEAN. It's a secluded spot, but a bit barren, with no trees to obstruct the view. The cliff itself is very tall and very sudden, dropping straight down into the ocean in several hundred feet of rock white as fresh snow. The wind tends to be very strong there, and walk there can be a bit treacherous, but it's worth it. The view, especially on a clear day, when the sun is either rising or falling, setting the sea on fire, is spectacular.

Katara goes there often, though never for the view.

There's not much of a view the day she takes me, though. It's snowing, light and steady, and the snow swirls around us as we walk up to the edge, the wind tugging at our clothes. We huddle together as we walk, holding each other tight, my wife's head pressed into my shoulder, my arm around her. It's very cold, though we don't feel it. We stride right up to the cliff face, and for a moment, I have an overwhelming sense of vertigo, as if I'm standing on the edge of the world itself. I can't help but feel that if I stepped off, I'd never stop falling.

I don't, though. Katara holds me back, and I hold her.

We don't say anything for a while, just watch as an endless cascade of white falls from the heavens into a sea the color of dull steel and looking just as lifeless. It's very quiet, and even the waves seem muted, and very far away. We watch, and we wait, for what, we're not entirely sure. There's an indescribable feeling in my chest, a fuzzy tightness like lines tugging at my heart. I feel a lot like I'm wandering through a thick fog, in a place I've never been before, fighting my way towards a destination I don't know. Here, at the edge of a cliff at the bottom of the world, there is light, and warmth, and Katara. We stand together, as we always will, together on solid rock, in a world we know. But beyond, is the fog, and a future that we can't even begin to fathom. Out there, it is cold, and dark, and we will never be able to see past our own noses.

I feel very frightened, more frightened than I've ever been in my entire life, but, for once, I don't feel alone.

_I'll never feel alone again…_

Beside me, Katara takes a soft breath, and speaks.

_"Hey, Mom…"_

Her voice is almost a whisper, and I can barely hear her words over the wind and the sea. Her voice is very thick, choked with emotion, but very strong, shot through with iron. She is determined, but scared, just like me.

I squeeze her tight, to make sure she knows she's not alone, either.

"So," she continues, brushing some hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, "I know I haven't been by lately, and I'm sorry about that. It's…heh…_it's been a bit crazy_, you know? You…you remember that crazy girl I told you about, Toph? Well, it turns out that she's the Avatar. It's…it's pretty funny when you think about it, how we spent all that time thinking about the Avatar, and trying to find them, and all along, she was right there, under our noses. Sokka says that you are probably having a good laugh about it. You always did say that we needed to pay more attention to things right under our noses. Heh…remember that time when I freaked out, because I couldn't find my comb, the one Dad made for me for my seventh birthday, and you just clucked your tongue and reached into my coat pocket and pulled it right out? Yeah…it was a lot like that…"

There's a pause, while she wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. In my mind's eye, I can't help but imagine us sitting around a fire, hand-in-hand, while an older woman who looks remarkably like my wife sits and smiles at us, listens and nods and wonders when she'll meet my mother. In that vision, my mother's always alive, always alive and never far away.

_My uncle's there, too, my uncle and his wife and my cousin…_

_ Everyone's there…_

_ And who knows, maybe it's not just a figment of my imagination…_

_ Maybe I've never been alone…_

"But yeah…the thing is, I don't know when I'll be able to come here and talk to you again. We're leaving today. We don't want to, but it's just not safe for the tribe if we stay, so we're going out into the world. We've managed to make contact with some friends, or, at least, we _hope_ they're friends, but I feel good about them, and then Zuko's going to help Toph master fire, and then we'll have to find a way to help her master air, and then I'll get to help her master water, and then…well…I'm not sure what happens then, but I can't help but feel that it's all going to turn out for the best. I feel…_I feel hope_. We all do. It's like…it's hard to describe, how we feel. It's like…a veil has been lifted from our eyes. We feel lighter, our minds feel clearer. It's just…for the first time in so long, there's a future, not just for us, _but for the world._ I can't help but feel that that's a great, wonderful thing."

Another pause, another deep breath, another wiping of the eyes.

"So, I guess what I'm taking so long to say is that…I guess I just wanted you to know where I was, so that you wouldn't worry about me. I'll be with good people, and I've worked hard on my waterbending, like you always told me to. I won't lie and say that I'll always be safe, but…I'll do my best to be careful, and to make you proud. Heh…speaking of good people…"

She gently pulls out of my arms, and takes my hand. She takes a step forward, and pulls me along with her. She turns nervous, flustered, smiling shyly and constantly tucking her hair behind her ear.

"The other thing is…you know that boy I'm always talking about? I wanted you to meet him. I know, I should've brought him by earlier, but…you see…he's really shy, though…it's really cute, to be honest. Heh…but yeah, this is him, my husband, Zuko. Everyone likes him, even Dad, and I know you would've loved him, too. He's going to be with me, and even though he's a bit of an idiot, he's really brave, and smart, so, see? Between him and Sokka and Toph, you'll have nothing to worry about."

She looks up at me, and squeezes my hand. "Didn't you have something you wanted to ask her?"

I do my best to fight the blush, but it's a lost cause. My tongue grows thick and heavy in my mouth, and I feel weird and awkward and flustered. I can't help but feel that the woman whose name was Kya really is there, right in front of us, giving me an encouraging smile. After so long with my uncle, it's hard not to feel that the Spirit World is real, right before our eyes, hovering behind a veil as thin as rice paper just beyond our reach. I never used to really believe in all of that stuff, but now…

_Now, it's hard not to…_

There's another squeeze on my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. I give myself a shake, look off towards the horizon, and smile, and try again.

"I just…well…it's nice to meet you, ma'am. I've heard so much about you, and, well…I won't say that I'm going to take care of your daughter, because she doesn't need taking care of, but…I'll always be with her, and I'll always be by her side, because I love her, very much. And…well…if you see my uncle, please tell him that I miss him, and…and…heh, sorry…and…and tell him I'm taking good care of his sword, and that I'm working on my Pai Sho game, and…if you _do_ see him, when he offers you tea, I recommend that you take him up on it, because it's the best tea you'll ever have. And…"

My voice catches on a lump in my throat. I swallow the lump, and push my words past it.

"And…thank you, ma'am, for helping to create my wife. I'll never be able to repay you, but I'll always be grateful to you, for as long as I live."

And then I'm wiping my eyes, and I lean down and Katara pops up and we share a quick kiss, and then Katara turns back to the sea and finishes her report.

"Just a few final things. Um…Sokka says that he misses you, and that he'll do you proud, and Toph says that she really wishes she could've met you, and Gran-Gran wanted me to make sure you knew that she's taking good care of the house, and Dad wanted me to tell you that he still loves you, and always will. We all miss you, Mom, and we all love you, and…heh…we all hope to see you again someday."

She turns to look up at me, and her eyes somehow manage to sparkle, even without the light of the sun.

"But not yet."

We find the others where we expect to, down by the docks. Sokka and Toph are there, bouncing up and down with excitement, and so is Hakoda, and Gran-Gran, a form of address I still don't quite know what to do with. Our things are piled up in the snow not far away, and there's a sense of expectant tension in the air. The ship that we're waiting for is clearly visible out on the water, slowly gliding towards the pier, the wind bringing with it the creaking of the wood and snatches of conversation in Guangzhou. Where we are, there's a round of hugs and kisses and tears. Gran-Gran can't stop crying, and even Hakoda seems a bit wet in the eyes. The embrace he gives his children is almost bone-crushing, and even Toph isn't spared a helping of cheese, no matter how much she groans and tries to wiggle herself free.

As this is going on, Hakoda throws an arm across my shoulders and pulls me aside, a few steps away from the others, who are clustered around Gran-Gran, who is dispensing a few final pieces of advice, most of it probably quite helpful. When he's sure that we can't be overheard, Hakoda leans in to me, a conspiratorial whisper to his voice.

"So, you're sure that these people can be trusted?"

I nod and shrug, all at the same time. "As far as I know? Yes. Kyoshi Island stayed out of the war, but not because they actually liked the Fire Nation. Plus, their society's founder _was_ an Avatar, Avatar Kyoshi, so they feel a strong, personal attachment to the new Avatar, especially since she's of the Earth Kingdom."

He nods, stroking his beard in thought. "And you're sure it's the best place for you to go?"

That time, all I can do is shrug. "It's the best place to start. It's a big island, not too many people, and the Warriors will make good allies. Point is, it's big, it's safe, and we'll easily be able to communicate with our friends at the Southern Air Temple. Is it perfect?" Another shrug, even more neutral than the last one. "Of course not, but where is? But like I said, it's as good a place to start as any."

He nods, lips pursed in thought. He's far from satisfied, but then again, so am I. There are, quite simply, no perfect solutions, and very few that can even be called _good_. Going to Kyoshi Island is just the first step; only the gods know where we'll end up going from there.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out through his nose, and pats my shoulder with the hand that's dangling there. "Well, if there's one thing I've learned, it's to trust you kids' judgment. Just know that we'll be here, waiting for word, ready and willing to take up the fight once more. Oh, and one more thing…" He looks over his shoulder once more, and I join him, because I know what he's going to say, and I _really_ don't want my wife to overhear. Satisfied, we both lean in, and his voice drops even more.

"Just…promise me you'll take care of my little girl, alright?"

I nod and I smile. "Of course, sir. And I also promise never to tell her that you said that."

He chuckles and pats my chest. "There's a good lad. I knew I liked you for a reason."

"Heh…I hope I've gathered many reasons to be liked."

He waves his hand, batting the sentiment around. "Eh…I suppose…still, you be careful, too, okay? I won't have my daughter turned into a widow."

I bow my head. "I'll do my best, sir. And I'll also do my best to make sure that Sokka thinks with the right head from time-to-time."

He laughs. "Oh, I already gave him that speech. Still-"

Out of nowhere, Katara and Toph appear, one to either side of us, smiling brightly and shouting, "Hey, boys! Having fun over here?"

Hakoda and I just about jump out of our skins, though I'm pleased to see that I recover my cool a bit more quickly than he does. We exchange conspiratorial winks and chuckle lightly, while Hakoda says, "Oh, I was just giving my son-in-law a few pointers."

Katara cross her arms, eyebrow popped. "Oh, is that so? Looked more like a last-minute interrogation to me."

I roll my eyes. "Hey, cut my father-in-law some slack, he stopped interrogating me at _least_ a couple of months ago."

Hakoda smiles. "See? No interrogation."

Katara sighs and shakes her head. "Uh huh. Well, our ride's almost here, so it's time for us to get ready to meet them."

"Alright," I say, pulling myself out from under Hakoda's arm and taking Katara's hand, "I'm coming." I bow one final time to Hakoda, and he bows back, a nervous smile on his face, and then the three of us walk back over to join Sokka. There, we all form a line, our hands seeking out the others, holding tightly, Toph, me, Katara, and Sokka, four friends against the world.

The ships slides up to the dock, and the lines are tossed down, crewmembers leaping off and securing the ship. Unlike pretty much any ship in the world, there are just as many women as men in the crew, a sight that makes Sokka suddenly stand up straight and start messing with his hair and causes Toph to start trembling with glee.

"So," she says, "these Kyoshi Warriors are, like, super-hot, right?"

Sokka lets out a low whistle. "Looks that way from here."

Toph giggles, a leer on her face. "Oh, this is going to be, like, the best trip _ever._"

"Now Toph," Katara says, looking up at the heavens as if looking for strength, "remember what we talked about: Don't go around telling every cute girl with nice boobs that you're the Avatar just to get laid."

Toph scoffs. "Please. If I can't do that, what's the point of being the fucking Avatar?"

"To help people?" Katara offers.

"To get free meals for your hungry friend at restaurants?" Sokka suggests.

"To save the world?" I point out.

Toph waves all of those away. "Meh, alright, yeah, those, too. But if you think I'm letting this fringe benefit go by with exploration, you're crazy."

I turn to my wife and shrug. "Hey, we tried."

She scrunches her nose and pops up to give me a kiss. "We always do, and hey, it's good practice."

"For what?" Sokka asks, not really paying attention.

"For when all their boning finally bears fruit," Toph replies.

"Ah," Sokka says, "right on."

Katara and I roll our eyes and sigh, then turn our attention to the young woman who is causing Sokka's current bout of _wandering off to Sokka-land._ She's tall for a girl, at least an inch or so taller than Katara, about my age and very fit, with a determined set to her shoulders and a strong, confidant stride. The hood of her parka is pulled back, and I can see that she has short, straight, brown hair pulled back into a pony-tail, while a sword bounces at her hip. Her eyes are serious, but the smile on her face looks warm and genuine. She is, I have to admit, very pretty, and I'm _dying_ to find out just how much of an ass my brother-in-law is going to manage to make of himself over the coming weeks.

I take a moment to send this sentiment to my wife by way of a wink, an act that she quickly returns, letting me know that she's thinking the _exact same thing._

As the woman comes to a stop before us, we all bow together, deep at the waist, a gesture that she returns. She turns her attention to me and bows once more, shallower this time, and I reciprocate, but she says, in surprisingly good Suomi, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Prince Zuko."

I smile and bow my head. "Likewise, though I have to point out, I'm no longer a prince."

She shakes her head. "After the way you and your crew drove off that pirate band from our shores, you will always be a prince to us. Also," she bows her head, frowning, "allow me to formally extend Kyoshi Island's sympathies for your loss." She raises her head, and smiles kindly. "Your uncle was a great man, and your crew deserve nothing but praise."

I have to take a deep breath before I can answer that, bowing my head in thanks. "I thank you, my lady. You're too kind."

She bows once more, then turns to Toph, who's starting to get a little impatient with all the formalities. The woman opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say a word, Toph has broken away from us and stomped up, taking the woman's hand and pumping it up and down.

"Yup, that's me. I'm Toph, the motherfucking Avatar. Nice to meet you!"

The woman blinks in confusion, the laughs, returning the handshake with a smile, if not without awkwardness. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, too." Toph releases her hand, and she turns to face Katara and Sokka. "And who are the rest of your party…?"

Toph marches over, squeezing in between the siblings and throwing a rough arm around each of their waists. "_These_ are the brother sister combo. This is Katara, my best friend in the whole wide world and the woman unfortunate enough to be married to your idiot prince here, and this drooling idiot is Sokka, the butt of all my best jokes."

The woman bows her head to Katara, and says, "Congratulations. You'll be the envy of many of my warriors."

Katara shrugs and squeezes my hand. "So long as they look but don't touch, we'll be good."

The woman laughs. "I'll spread the word."

Suddenly, as if waking up from a dream, Sokka gives himself a shake, pulling out of Toph's grasp and striding up to the woman. He takes her hand, bows over it, and gives it a kiss, before saying in a voice that makes me gag, "And what, pray tell, is your name? Or do goddesses not have names…?"

The rest of us roll our eyes and try not to throw up, but, to our eternal surprise, the woman actually _giggles_ and, if anything, looks somehow _charmed_, which has to be one for the books. Instead of pulling her hand away and going running for the hills, screaming, she does a little curtsy and replies, in a voice that can only be called inviting, "I'm one of the senior members of the Kyoshi Warriors, but I suppose, if you insist…

"You can call me Suki."

* * *

That's right, I gave you Suki, right there at the end. Bwah hahahaha!

But still, it's all good. I think that's a good end to the story, don't you? If you're wondering why I'm ending it here, it's partially because, as I've mentioned before, I have no idea how to go about tackling the next part. But, it's also because…well…this is the end of _this_ particular story. This story was about Zuko and Katara, and how they came together to forge a new destiny. The next part would be about actually pursuing that destiny. You gotta break it up somewhere, right?

I have more to say, but I'm going to put that in my final author's note. Speaking of which…

In the next chapter, I'm going to wind things down, ramble about a few things, and then it's on with the show! Stay tuned!


	63. The Final Author's Note

The Final Author's Note

So, like, I was totally going to go to fucking bed (or, in this case, because the girl is at her parents' for the night and I'm lonely and I hate going to bed without her, go pass out on the couch while some random Netflix shit plays in the background) and do this thing tomorrow, but…I'm not really tired, and this was bugging me, and I've got, like, a metric _fuckton_ of other projects to get cracking on (one of which is a job application I need to fill out), and I can't with this last little bit hanging over me, so, here we go!

Also, how about the epic run-on up there? It's like I always say: _I don't do shit by halves, bitches._

Oh, and sorry about the _bitches_. Yeah, I know, _misogyny_ and all that, but it fit, you know? Also, I've obviously been writing Toph too much. _But anyways…_

When I started this project, I honestly had not a fucking clue where it was going to go, or how long it was going to be. I basically had an idea for constructing an elaborate excuse for some epic Zutara fluff, and that was about it. Then you guys seemed to dig it, and I got into it, and next thing I knew, I was on chapter twenty-five or some such shit with no end in sight. Woo!

In other words, what I'm saying is that this all your fault, my faithful readers. You sit there boosting my ego, and I just feel the compulsion to give you more. Also, it ended up being a really interesting story, and when a story grabs me, I've never been one to let it walk away.

So, first, we'll have a few notes about the story. Like I said, this particular story is done; that was the last chapter, and there'll be no more shit posted to this particular work. I like to think that we ended it at a good place. Our lovely couple is married, the Avatar has returned (_not to mention that the Avatar is going to be the most badass Avatar that ever…umm…__**Avatar-ed**_), and our Fearsome Foursome is setting out to try and save the world. They haven't the faintest idea how they're going to go about that, and to be honest, neither do I.

Alright, that's a lie: I have a pretty decent idea how they're going to do that. I just don't know how I'm going to write it. My idea is that I'll basically make it a series of drabbles, taking episode premises from the show and warping them to fit into this particular universe. So, for example, I have this idea to get the gang into Ba Sing Se and enact a very different version of _Caverns of Destiny_, where instead of Zuko facing a choice (_because, let's face it, he already made his choice_), it's someone else that I'm totally not going to say here. Like, I have that whole story sketched out in full, the only problem being, _I have no idea how to get there_.

What I'm saying is, if you guys want to take some cracks at it, be my guest. Just shoot me the link in a PM so I can see what you did, and have fun! I mean it: _Have fun!_

Also, I'm going to take a moment to beg for fan art. This story has, like, the highest rate of occurrence for fan art bait scenes of anything I've ever written, here or elsewhere. There's some awesome stuff, some cute stuff, some fluffy stuff…_there's a lot to work with here._ So, somebody with artistic talent, _show me what you got!_

About that, though: I have a lot of other stuff I need to be doing. I promised my fiancée that I wouldn't do any more big fanfiction projects until I went to work on my original shit for at _least_ six months, so you might not see much of me. I'm basically going to treat fanfiction as a reward: I do X amount of original work, and I give myself a random day off and throw out some drabbles. These will be both in my _A Different Path_ universe and in the _Wild, Wild Love_ universe. So, look out for those! They'll probably surprise me as much as they surprise you!

Also, can we take a moment to discuss the _Inspector Iroh_ universe? I just discovered it the other day, and holy shit _fuck_ are there some narrative possibilities there. I mean it, go check it out. You're _definitely_ going to get a piece set there sometime in the near future.

Man, I totally lost the thread here…point is, this has been a ridiculously fun ride. I really do love it here, and most of the reason is because of you guys. I mean, not only do I get instant feedback, gain confidence in my writing, _and_ get to play around in this awesome fictional universe, _but people actually like what I do_. You know how awesome that is? _It's fucking great, guys._

So, before I ramble myself completely into a corner, I'm going to go ahead and move on to the acknowledgements:

First, to God, as always, because even if I'm the world's shittiest Catholic and not at _all_ religious, I still like to make sure I don't get hit by lightning any time soon, and I like to think that it's the thought that counts.

Second, to my lovely fiancée, soon to be my lovely wife, just, all the thanks in the world. You put up with me, inspire me, and in this case, actually gave me an ending that was ten billion times better than what I'd originally come up with. Also, you just fucking rock. _I love you!_

Third, to all of you lovely readers. I really can't begin to tell you how awesome you are.

Fourth, to Zuko and Katara, for just being you guys. I loved you kids in this story. Who wouldn't?

Fifth, to the Philip-Morris Company, for their lovely product, Marlboro Red cigarettes, the reason why I can get through the day without committing brutal murder.

Sixth, to Bryan and Mike. Yeah, I give your show shit, but hey, it's still a good show. Just give us a Zuko/Katara hug in _Legend of Korra_ and we'll call it even, 'kay?

And last but not least, to my fiancée again, because I'm a sap, and every time I drop a reference to her in a note, I get a kiss. Yeah, I like my girl. _So sue me._

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I bid you adieu. I hope you liked the show, and I look forward to when I see you again. Until next time, _peace_.


End file.
